


the cure for anything is salt water

by Ghylle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (if you wanna know the specifics of the banging), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Human Jake, M/M, Selkie Dirk, some banging down the line, some unintentional falling in love, y'know the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16367261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghylle/pseuds/Ghylle
Summary: You’re quite possibly the last remaining selkie in the world and you just went and did the worst thing you ever could have done.You lost your sealskin.Good thing a handsome stranger is there to come to your aid.





	1. between the here, between the now

You’ve come ashore and walked among the humans countless times before, so this is not an oversight or mistake you would ever make. You’ve always been careful and made sure to switch hiding spots. Not to mention that they were _good_ hiding spots. Places hard to reach, tucked away and hidden from prying eyes. You double check and triple check whenever you come and go from them. If people were to look up the definition of overcaution, they would find your picture there.

But as you scrabble among the slippery rocks with increasing franticness, you realise there’s no other way around it.

Your sealskin is gone.

You’re fucked.

Your name is Dirk Strider. You’re one of the last surviving selkies, if not the very last of your kind. You’re responsible, overly cautious to the point of bordering on paranoid, and somehow you’ve just lost your ticket back home. It’s an absolute nightmare, the worst case scenario, and such a dumb cliché. Admittedly deep down you might have fantasised about what it would be like to have your skin stolen, to have all choice taken from you and have an outside force change the course of your life, but to actually have it happen is another beast entirely.

Your idle fantasies didn’t go like this. For one, you imagined your skin would have been stolen by a handsome stranger, some dashing human guy who caught you changing and decided he very much liked what he saw. Right now the perpetrator is nowhere in sight and the rocks leave no tracks. You have no clue what happened or how anyone could have found your hiding spot.

You’re certain that the tiny alcove tucked into the cliffside is impossible to just stumble upon, it requires wading through a strong current of water and a small treacherous climb to get to. The tide doesn’t reach here so it couldn’t have been washed away by accident and all the animals in the area know you. Not even the cheekiest of seagulls would have dared take it.

All you can do is search.

Hours pass and you’ve combed the entire area for even just the hint of a clue. There’s nothing to be found. Not among the rocks of the cliffs, not in the waters nearby, and not on the sands of the beach. You’ve resigned yourself to sitting on the sand near the cliffs in the fading light of the sun, staring forlornly out at the sea before you. All the while trying to breathe through the anxiety that’s settled and made its home in your chest now that the initial panic has subsided to a restless hum underneath your skin.

You need a game plan. You don’t exactly have much in the way of human belongings, only the clothes on your back; a carefully curated collection from careless beachgoers. You’ve never needed actual belongings before. Fortunately you do know your way around and how to sneak into places. You’ve been moving among humans for years now. If need be, you can apply sticky fingers or maybe you could ask… no. That won’t do. There’s only one person you can turn to for help and you’re not sure your wounded pride can take it right now.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the sounds of something fast approaching until it’s too late. You hear it behind you, some quick shifting of sand as a weight barrels through, and before you can turn your head to look, the something collides hard with you. It knocks you flat to the ground with a totally dignified yelp, quickly scrambling to roll over and throw your hands up to defend yourself from your attacker as you feel them move over you.

Your fingers catch hold of soft- fur? Just as you’re trying to make sense of that, something warm and wet is dragged across your face and you realise that what you’re holding on to is a dog. A very enthusiastic dog. Greeting you as if you’re its long lost owner, finally returned from the war after years of tragic separation.

“Halley, NO!”

A loud voice cuts through the sounds of the overexcited huffs of breath being blown into your face while you desperately try to lean away from the dog’s persistent attempts to keep licking your face. Your efforts are made easier when two hands appear around the dog’s neck and haul it back off of you.

“Bad dog!!”

Without the dog attempting to crawl all over you and weighing you down, you can finally get your bearings better and actually have a look at both your exuberant furry assailant and your rescuer. The dog is a white shepherd or something of the like, its size leaving you unsurprised by how easily you were bowled over just now. Holding it back is presumably its owner, looking harrowed and flustered from what little you can glimpse of his face with him bowed over the dog, scolding it. Mostly you can only see a shock of dark hair until he looks up at you, startling green eyes meeting yours through a pair of spectacles.

… Well, there’s the handsome twenty-something stranger you’d been hoping to see earlier in the day. Better late than never, you suppose.

“Goodness gracious, my sincerest apologies! I don’t have the faintest clue what came over him, he normally never does this. Are you alright?”

You nod, a little dumbfounded, and take the hand he offers you to help pull you to your feet. He’s let go of the dog in order to do so and you eye it warily where it sits as you stand and brush the sand off your clothes. It wags its tail at you innocently.

“I’m fine. Just took me by surprise, is all.”

You say it as nonchalantly as possible, resisting the urge to step back when the dog gets up, only to seemingly lose all interest in you and wander off to go inspect something washed up on the beach. The stranger watches this and laughs before turning his attention back to you.

“I swear, that silly ol’ creature has the attention span of a gnat,” he says before he pauses, his blinding smile faltering a bit as he appears to hesitate. “Are you absolutely certain you’re alright?”

You have to wonder if maybe he can tell how starstruck you are or if the distress you’ve been experiencing for most of the day has left its mark on you somehow. You really hope not. You like to pride yourself on your ability to keep composure and stay unreadable.

“Yeah, man.” You answer with a shrug for added effect.

He doesn’t look convinced, looking you up and down with obvious skepticism.

“It’s just that… well, hardly anyone ever comes here.”

He glances from you to the cliffs around you and back again, brows furrowed in concern and that’s when it clicks. Right. You’d been sitting there in the sand like a sad sack, alone, in some remote part of the beach where people don’t usually come while night falls. That probably doesn’t paint the best picture. You think fast.

“I just arrived here today and I lost my bag when it fell during sightseeing,” you say, motioning to the top of the cliffs to indicate them. “It kind of had everything important in it, so I’ve been looking.”

Perhaps not the best lie, but people usually go for the lost backpacker routine. Especially because you lack the accent that the locals do. Just like your handsome stranger, actually. Hopefully that will make him more understanding of your imaginary plight.

It seems that way, given how his eyes widen before his expression twists into a sympathetic one.

“Oh! In that case you can’t say everything is peachy keen now, can you?”

He doesn’t ‘ _tut_ ’ you and he appears to radiate genuine empathy, yet you still feel strangely chastised. The blank canvas of your face cracks as you offer the hint of a wry smile.

“Guess not,” you concede.

“Good thing you’ve just become acquainted to the best nose you possibly could! We can help you look,” he says, already turning to presumably call over the dog.

You hurriedly intervene.

“Oh no, that’s fine. I’ve already been looking all day. I’m afraid it’s been lost to the sea. No point in looking anymore.” You try to sound blasé in a way that makes it sound like someone pretending to be cool instead of being blasé because you’re lying out of your ass. At least it’s not a total lie. You did lose something very important. Just not your bag.

You’re not sure how successful you are when your words draw his gaze back to you, piercing green studying you for a moment. As expressive as he’d been just seconds ago, you have a hard time trying to read what’s on his mind now.

“Golly, that’s some real bad luck. Do you at least have a place to stay?” He asks at last.

You could lie some more. Tell him you do and send him on his way, have this interaction over with so you can go back to sulking in the sand until you inevitably have to swallow your pride and go ask for help from the only person you can turn to.

But you are so very tired and to utter one more lie suddenly feels like too much effort. A part of you would also like to keep this attractive guy around a little longer, savor his company while you can.

So you shake your head.

You watch the progression of emotions as his face falls, turns pensive, and then brightens again.

“Why don’t you come stay with me until you’re all sorted out then? I live nearby.”

You stare. You can’t help it, it’s such an absurd offer out of the blue. The guy doesn’t even know you and you don’t know him. Who the hell asks a perfect stranger to come stay with them in their house?

Something on your face must betray how incredulous you feel because he laughs before smiling sheepishly.

“I’ve done my fair bit of traveling around the world. I know getting stranded in a foreign country isn’t a good rollicking time and I promise you, I mean you no harm.”

“Well, I’m sold,” you deadpan. Which only amuses him more.

“You’ve already lost everything, no? It’s not like I can take anything else from you.”

“Other than my life? No, I suppose not,” you jest. Sort of. He doesn’t seem like the crazy serial killer type, but then normal people don’t just invite strangers over to stay with them either. “Besides, who’s to say I can be trusted? I could be robbin’ you blind the moment you turn your back.”

You feel it pertinent to point that out, even if it should be obvious.

He merely shrugs, looking way too unconcerned for your liking. Now you might feel a niggling of worry for the dude.

“Eh, I don’t think I have that much worth stealing and technically the place isn’t actually mine,” he says. “I have Halley to protect me and he seems to like you just fine. I don’t reckon anyone he takes a shine to can be that awful.”

You don’t know how to respond to that beyond dubiously glancing at the dog who’s currently occupying itself by harassing an unfortunate crab.

“So whaddya say? At least let me take you in for the night. I can’t possibly let a fine fella like yourself stay out here on your lonesome. Who knows who might snap you up?”

There’s an earnest insistence to his tone, but more importantly, is he _flirting?_ Yes, he must be. Because he definitely just winked at you. Alright then.

He must be crazy.

And so must you be.

“Alright, fine. I’ll leave myself to your hospitable mercies,” you say with less reluctance than you ought to.

Accepting might be worth it alone for how he beams at you. He really is too damn gorgeous. If the reason he’s insisting on taking you in is because he’s expecting a certain something-something in return and that’s what the flirting is about then… well, you might be inclined to indulge him. _Maybe._ It would be far from the first time you’ve done anything of the like anyway.

You have your fun among the humans and then leave, return to the sea where you belong. You don’t linger, you don’t get attached, you move from coast to coast wherever the streams take you. Despite having plenty of spots you return to every now and then, you have no place on land and you don’t make yourself a fixture anywhere. No matter how well you blend in and adapt, by the end of the day you’re just not human.

The problem is that you currently can’t go home and you’re stuck looking like one. That complicates things and you don’t know how much you’re going to be in the mood for any shenanigans of the sexual kind. You can only hope he isn’t pushy about it or a serial killer after all.

“Capital! You have my word you won’t regret it,” he says with a winning smile, his apparent earnestness whittling away at your skepticism. “I’m Jake English, by the way.”

Again you take the hand he offers you to shake it, trying not to look into how his warm fingers linger against your wrist too much. Could just be your (possibly hopeful) imagination too.

“Dirk Strider,” you reply.

“C’mon then, Mr. Strider,” Jake says jokingly. “And I’ll show you to my humble abode.”

He’s already turning away and while he calls out to the dog, you take the opportunity to look out at the sea again. You feel it call to you like a hum in your veins and you know it’s a feeling that will only get worse the longer you’re on land. You’ll really have to think of a way to find your pelt before it becomes unbearable.

With a heavy heart you turn away from the soothing waves and move to follow Jake.

 

* * *

 

Jake’s ‘humble abode’ turns out to be the old lighthouse with its adjacent little home on the other side of the beach. The one you’d figured had been abandoned because you hadn’t seen anyone else near it before. It comes as kind of a relief to you. From here you’re as close to the sea as you could possibly be, the rhythm of the waves still audible when you step inside. It’s comforting. The interior of the home is designed to make it appear cozy yet spacious for its small size. White walls with plenty of windows create the illusion of more space where the wooden decorations and many plants everywhere give it a homely feel.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Jake’s voice tugs your focus away from admiring your surroundings.

“No, not yet,” you reply, honest when you realise you’re feeling pretty famished after your panic-fueled searching all day and most of the evening. 

“Oh, good. I could use some supper myself. Make yourself at home.”

Before you can offer to help — not that you could do much in the way of cooking anyway, it’s the thought that counts — he’s already moving away to a different room, making a dismissive motion over his shoulder. You’re left standing by the door, feeling unsure.

You have to question the wisdom behind your decision to accept his rather absurd offer. There’s still so much that could go wrong. Although when you consider the alternative of staying out all night in a form not made for withstanding the elements on its own to wait for morning until you eventually cave and go see your friend, you find yourself relenting again.

Having resigned yourself to your fate, you take off your boots and move out of the little entrance hall area to settle yourself in what looks to be the living room, plopping down on the couch.

Halley immediately decides to join you, jumping up on the couch to lie down with his head in your lap. He’s looking up at you with expectant eyes.

You hesitate a few seconds before setting your hand down on his head and tentatively stroking his fur. You don’t consider yourself a dog person. Or any certain-type-of-animal person for that matter. Seems kind of silly when you’re a seal most of the time. You get along fine with wild animals, can communicate with them to a certain extent even, but pets are a different story. Like all animals, they seem to know inherently that you’re Other — not human, not animal — but most of the time they don’t know what to make of you. It makes them wary and cautious of your presence.

Halley apparently didn’t get that memo.

Not that you mind overly much at the moment. There’s something soothing about running your fingers through his fur and feeling the warm weight of his head in your lap. You let it ground you as you look around you, taking in the details of the room while you listen to Jake puttering around in the kitchen. The first thing your eyes are drawn to are the pictures on the wall.

They’re of an elderly woman and a boy through various years. It doesn’t take much deductive reasoning to figure out that the boy is Jake and the woman likely his grandmother. You think you might recognize her from your previous visits to this area, but you’re not entirely sure. It makes you want to get up and take a closer look. You might have done so if you weren’t anchored to the spot by Halley and not very inclined to dislodge him when you’re both comfortable.

Instead you turn your attention to the entertainment system that Jake has. It’s pretty impressive. The huge TV and the big speakers are almost cinema-like. So much for not having anything worth stealing. Tech has always fascinated you and you know a thing or two about it. What Jake has here is worth a lot. Although he did say this place wasn’t his, so maybe it belongs to his grandmother and he doesn’t care because they’re… rich? Maybe?

Hell if you know. The situation you’ve found yourself in remains bizarre. 

You try not to think about it too much lest the anxiety lurking in your gut creeps back up on you again, opting to zone out for a moment as you pet a stranger’s dog. You get the distinct impression that Halley quite possibly knows the state you’re in and that’s why he decided to grace you with his warm, fluffy presence.

“Golly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him warm up to someone that fast,” Jake speaks up as he re-enters the room, carrying two bowls.

Suspicion confirmed, you think. And you also wonder how long you’ve been spacing out for Jake to already be done preparing food for the both of you. 

As if on cue, Halley jumps off the couch to curl up by your feet instead while Jake joins you, leaving your lap free for the bowl he hands you.

“I heated up some scrumptious tomato soup. There’s more if you want seconds,” he says graciously.

“Thank you.”

You’re hungry enough that you don’t waste any time being suspicious of what he’s so generously given you. You just dig in without further delay.

He seems amused by that and he doesn’t speak until you’ve both had a few spoonfuls of soup.

“Did you really lose everything important with that bag?” Jake asks.

“Yeah,” you lie smoothly. “Passport, cell phone, wallet, spare clothes. The whole nine yards. It’s my own fault, really. Should have checked in to a hotel and dropped my stuff there first before gallivanting off to explore.”

You almost feel bad for lying with the way he looks at you with earnest sympathy and concern. You remind yourself you’re not too far off from the truth. Your skin _is_ your everything and you lost it like an idiot. Somehow.

“Is there anyone you want to call?” He asks, already retrieving his cell phone from his pocket.

You shake your head, not even pausing to consider it or think up another lie.

“No, I’m traveling on my own and I don’t really have anyone to call.”

It’s a truth that you figure is only going to make you sound suspicious, but when you glance over at him you’re surprised by the sad understanding in his eyes. He simply nods and tucks his phone away again, ignoring it when it buzzes in his pocket. His attention is solely on you.

“Try not to worry that pretty head of yours for now,” he says, smile returning.

The picture of eloquence and grace that you are in the face of a handsome man calling you pretty, you blink owlishly and say nothing.

“Leave the worries for tomorrow. Care to watch a movie while we eat?”

Huh. That’s not what you were expecting. You were thinking he might get more solicitous or he would start asking you questions about where you’re from, your family, etc. But no, he’s merely inviting you to watch a movie with him.

“Sure,” you agree easily and you feel even more thrown off when he smiles brightly as if you just told him he won the lottery.

He turns on the TV eagerly, selecting some generic action movie from his Netflix queue that you consent to and starts playing it without fuss.

You think this might turn awkward fast, yet it doesn’t. While you eat, he comments on the movie and by the time your bowls are empty, you both have something of a running commentary going between you. Apparently he’s really, _really_ into movies. Good thing you know your pop culture. You’ve snuck into plenty of movie theatres and have made generous use of whatever entertainment systems your hook-ups had available.

Sitting here with him, watching a movie, is strangely comfortable.

By the end of it, you somehow feel more at ease despite the fact that you’re technically in a shitton of trouble. Jake is pleasant company and the movie along with his commentary has successfully distracted you from your worries. He might have done it on purpose, you figure.

You catch yourself staring when he rises to his feet and stretches himself out, shirt riding up and showing a peek of bare skin. You hastily look away before he turns towards you.

“That was a jolly good time! I suppose we should call it in for the night. You’re welcome to take the couch, but I have a spare bedroom you can use upstairs, too. Whichever you like,” he says jovially.

The tiny part of you that was half-expecting to be invited to his bed is both relieved and disappointed simultaneously. You ignore it staunchly as you consider the options. A proper bed could be nice while you’re stuck in this form, but the couch is on the ground floor and close to the front door, providing a very easy escape should you need it.

The choice is obvious.

“The couch is fine, really,” you say casually, trying to pass it off as a show of humility.

He smiles in a way that leaves you thinking he’s not fooled one bit; a hint of knowing in his eyes. Possibly he caught how you snuck a glance at the door while you deliberated. Either way, you’re quickly figuring out that he’s a lot sharper than he lets on with his weird old-fashioned way of talking and his cheery demeanor. It intrigues you more than it maybe should.

“Alrighty then, let me fetch you a blanket and some appropriate sleepwear. Be back in a sec!”

Before you can even think to question or object to whatever ‘appropriate sleepwear’ is, he’s already swiftly moving away like a man on a mission. You let him go and listen to his footsteps disappear up the stairs.

You’re left alone with a dozing Halley by your feet, the silence more pronounced without Jake’s presence in the room and with the TV turned off, providing no more distractions. Like this, you can faintly hear the waves outside. The push and pull are as familiar as your own heartbeat. When you close your eyes, you can almost pretend you’re in the safe embrace of salt water.

You’re so engrossed in picturing it, mentally trying to soothe the restlessness thrumming underneath your skin through sheer force of will and imagination, that you don’t notice the sound of something shifting and you’re startled out of your futile efforts by a nudge to your knee. You glance down to see that it’s Halley having pressed his nose against your knee as he stares up at you with big, brown eyes again.

You stare back.

“You’re a weird one, aren’t you?” You say eventually when nothing seems to give.

Halley lazily wags his tail back and forth and then goes still again. Unsure of what else to do, you reach over and scratch him behind one ear. That at least gets him to close his eyes and stop staring. You really don’t know what to make of his behaviour towards you, it’s so unusual.

Neither does Jake, apparently, because when he steps back into the room, pillow and a blanket awkwardly tucked under one arm and a set of clothes under the other, he stops and tilts his head at the sight of you both.

“Huh,” he says, clearly perplexed. “He’s certainly taken with you, isn’t he.”

“I don’t know why. I’m not much of a dog person,” you admit, honestly.

Jake raises an eyebrow at you, amused and somewhat skeptical of your claim as you scratch Halley’s ear. You just shrug helplessly in response.

He shakes his head in what’s maybe private amusement or fondness and continues his way over to you.

“C’mon, you cad. Time for bed.”

It’s all that’s needed to get Halley to pull away from you, the words prompting him to move to the corner of the room to settle down on the big cushion there.

“Here you go,” Jake says, making you tear your eyes away from watching Halley spin circles on the spot before lying down for some baffling reason that’s beyond you.

Dogs are strange is the conclusion you draw.

You’re handed a black T-shirt with a skull logo on it that you vaguely recognize from some popular company and some sweatpants after he’s set down the pillow and blanket on one side of the couch.

“They might be a tad small on you, but I reckon it’s better than nothing,” he tells you with a… yep, there it is again. A wink. It goes well with the flirtatious quirk of his lips.

“Thanks,” you reply, keeping it short and simple so you don’t do something stupid like ask if the clothes really are better than nothing if he catches your drift. As tempting as it is to press and get into those flirty nudges to see how serious Jake might be, you don’t want to do anything to jeopardize the fact that you’ve been given a roof over your head for the night.

There’s no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth or push your luck.

Jake has been nothing but gracious and he continues to be as he explains where the bathroom is before he bids you good night and then leaves to go upstairs.

You wait a moment, listening to him move around in the halls above you, and then you change and turn off the lights. The shirt isn’t too bad, it’s kind of loose on you because he has a broader built, and the sweatpants show off more ankle than they should, but they’re not uncomfortably tight.

It’s more than a little strange to be sitting here in a stranger’s house, wearing their clothes and breathing in what must be Jake’s laundry detergent of choice. A part of you is still waiting for the other coin to drop.

It doesn’t.

As you sit there, the creaking upstairs eventually stops and you’re left with only distant ocean sounds and Halley’s breathing. Jake seems to be genuine with his intentions. Although he’s kind of an enigma, not really having talked about himself either, you suppose it’s only fair when he’s refrained from asking you any personal questions which you appreciate.

So far he’s only prioritized your comfort without asking anything in return and it’s… nice. Really nice.

Still, you can’t stay here. It’s in your best interest to go back to where you belong as soon as possible. It’s why you resolve to face the music and go get some help in the morning, your pride be damned.

Sliding under the blanket and settling down, you surrender yourself to a night of fitful rest, listening to the sea beckon you home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr [@ghylle](http://ghylle.tumblr.com/).


	2. between the north, between the south

You wake up feeling pretty shit.

It was to be expected, really. You hardly slept at all, only managing to doze off every few hours or so. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was beige fur with tan spots that your current freckles are a pale echo of. That, or startling green eyes.

So whatever brief moments of shut-eye you did manage to steal weren’t very restful and it’s no surprise at all that you basically feel like you got no sleep. It leaves you annoyingly groggy and even more susceptible to dwelling on your predicament, thoughts spiralling ever more downward. You don’t think you can be blamed when such a fundamental part of yourself is missing. It’s just not very productive when your thoughts go in useless circles.

Fortunately, Jake is a bit of a saving grace there. He draws your attention like nothing else and it’s a relief when he wakes and comes downstairs. He’s a little too cheerful so early in the morning for your taste, but at least his animated chatter is a nice distraction and the appreciative once-over he gave you upon seeing you in his clothes gives you something else to linger on over breakfast.

He makes the both of you pancakes and some damn strong coffee that helps you feel less like death warmed over. It’s an amicable affair, sitting opposite him at his small kitchen table while he talks about the weather forecast for the week and other such small talk between bites of food. He doesn’t hold your breviloquent responses against you and he waits until you have a fair amount of food and coffee in you before getting down to business.

“So, my fair-haired friend, what is your plan of action for today? The consulate in Edinburgh is closed on the weekend. You’re welcome to stay here until Monday, but I can drive you to the town nearby if you need anything there.”

Shit, it’s Saturday. You’d totally forgotten what day it was. There goes your excuse. Telling him the truth will have to do. You just hope he keeps up his streak of minimally invasive questions.

“There’s a chance an old friend might be around, so I was going to see if I could get some help there.”

A curious thing happens.

First Jake looks a little surprised, then maybe… relieved, possibly, and then there’s a flash of disappointment that’s there and gone again so fast you’re not sure if you imagined it or not. You don’t know what to make of that, but it’s hard to linger on it when he’s beaming at you while he tells you how glad he is that you have someone to turn to. The endearing buck-toothed grin is far too distracting.

To your relief he doesn’t ask any further questions about you or your friend and you decline his offer for a ride, citing you can use the exercise. After insisting on helping him with the dishes, you both end up leaving the house. He leaves to walk Halley, you to start your trek to your friend’s place. You part ways, although not until after Jake has made you promise to come back, either if it doesn’t work out or just to let him know what becomes of you.

You were planning on doing so anyway, feeling compelled to return his kindness with some token of appreciation so you won’t feel indebted, hence it’s an easy promise to make. You give Halley a tentative pat in goodbye and then you’re on your way.

 

* * *

 

The only fortunate thing about getting stranded on the coasts of Scotland, meeting Jake aside, is that it’s the one place where you have the option of turning to someone you trust. So if you had to be rendered as helpless as you currently are, this is the best place for it.

Doesn’t make it suck any less though.

You still have to swallow your pride and it takes a moment of doing so, standing on the front step of the cottage, before you finally lift your hand to knock on the door. Despite your reservations and the panicky shame swirling in your gut, you instantly feel a smidgen better when the door swings open and you’re met with a familiar face.

“Hey, Rox,” you offer with a hint of a smile.

The surprise on her face at seeing you is almost comical. Her mouth shapes a perfect ‘o’ and you brace yourself for what comes next in 3...2...1.

“Dirk!!!”

You have your arms half-outstretched to catch her as she all but launches herself at you, her delighted laughter ringing in your ears. She hugs you way too tight and you pat her back indulgently. You've long learned it's better to tolerate this than try to resist. Resistance only feeds the beast that is Roxy’s need to shower her loved ones with as much affection as possible, _especially_ when they’re opposed. 

Which you’re not. Not really. You merely pretend you are for the sake of appearances when in reality, the touch-starved parts of you are glad for her easy affectionate ways. She always makes it look and feel so simple. You envy that about her.

She pulls back after a good moment of depriving you of oxygen, grinning up at you.

“Holy shit, Di-Stri! Long time no see!”

“It’s good to see you too, Roxy,” you say with more earnestness than you’d like to admit. You’re very relieved to find her here. Although this is her home, close to her girlfriend, her business takes her to all corners of the world. You’re really quite lucky that she’s actually around.

Or that’s what you think until you’re ushered inside and your relief turns out to be short-lived when your eyes fall on the suitcases and bags set by the door.

“Come in! How’s my favourite selkie in the world doing?”

“I’m the only selkie you know,” you point out to dodge the question, tearing your eyes away from the luggage. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me?”

You say it in jest; no point in sounding or being hopeful. You gave up on finding someone like you long ago. You’ve been a lone selkie for as long as you can remember and that’s unlikely to change. All creatures like you are a dying breed in the modern world.

Despite the joking tone, it still makes her smile drop sadly.

“No, ‘fraid not.” Her tone softens before she brightens again good-naturedly. “But even if I knew more, you’d still be my fave.”

“Thanks, you’re my favourite witch in the world, too,” you humour her, genuine sentiment hidden beneath the indulging words. Both of you are aware you don’t know any other witches.

“I better be!” She waggles her eyebrows aggressively at you, tugging you by the wrist into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes in response before casting a quick glance back at the door. You dread the answer, but you have to ask…

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, got a flight to catch in a few hours. There’s a sylph who needs our help.”

There goes the break you thought you’d caught.

You know for a fact that she would drop everything to help you. Helping creatures like you is what she does. As much as she lends her magical services to regular people aware of the occult, by large her clients are those like you. Probably due to her girlfriend being a sea serpent. 

All you’d have to do is just tell her what happened and you’ll have all her incredible talents at your disposal. Tracking down your sealskin would be made so easy.

Too bad you can’t bear the thought of potentially pulling her away from someone who might need her help more than you do. Especially when it’s someone like you. Being without your skin is going to bring you a lot of discomfort, but whoever she’s flying out to see could be in more dire straits. You can’t in good conscience tell her when you know it will make her stay.

Fuck. You’ll have to think of something else. Time to downplay the severity of your situation and tweak the truth in any case.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it though, I’ll always have time for you! Here, siddown,” she urges you and you seat yourself by the kitchen counter as she flits about to grab what she needs to pour you a glass of homemade orange lemonade.

“Where’s Calliope?” You ask in an attempt to buy yourself some time to figure out how you’re going to spin this.

“Callie’s out having a last swim before we leave. It helps calm her nerves and you know how she hates flying.”

You don’t. You nod all the same.

“So,” she starts, taking a seat opposite you with a glass of her own and staring at you with keen interest. “To what do I owe the great honour and pleasure of your company, Mr. Strider? Were you jus’ dropping by to say hi?”

You wish more than anything that you were.

“Actually...” Taking a sip from your lemonade serves as a great excuse to inject a dramatic pause, making her lean in as she rests her chin on her hand. “I could use your help with something.”

She straightens immediately, eyes widening in obvious surprise.

It’s a fair enough reaction when you hardly ever ask for help of any kind. You quickly hold up a hand before her expression can twist into one of worry.

“I was just wondering, do you have like a spell or a potion that would make staying on land for a longer duration of time easier?”

“Why would you..?” She squints at you suspiciously and you can see the gears in her head turning. You already know what she’s thinking before a glint of anticipation appears in her eyes.  “Oh ho! Did you meet someone?”

“Maybe,” you hedge, knowing full well she’s going to take that as a yes.

How her grin widens and her eyes light up tells you as much and you feel fuckin’ awful for lying. Even though it’s technically not a lie. You sure did meet someone.

“Wow, he must be something special if you’re actually willing to stick around.”

Her grin could beat the cheshire cat’s and it does nothing to assuage the guilt starting to squirm in your chest. You pointedly ignore the statement which, thankfully, is exactly what you would do if the pretense were true.

“Well?” You prompt her, expression kept a careful blank save for the single raised eyebrow you give her.

She merely laughs, clearly delighted.

“No worries! Your girl’s got ya back. I can improvise something for you, no problem. All I ask in return is...”

Right. Witchcraft comes with a price. Most of the time it’s not a conventional one like money or such. You can’t offer her a whisker — supposedly a potent ingredient — like this any time soon though. Maybe she’ll settle for a strand of your hair instead whatever that might be worth. Although you have an inkling of what she’s going to ask and it’s not going to be an actual price at all.

“That you tell me about him!”

Yep. There it is.

“Or I could just pay you proper.” You sigh, hardly having to pretend to look put-upon.

“Nope! That’s my price. Take it or leave it, buddy.”

Well, at least you don’t have to invent someone out of thin air. You can tell her about Jake and there would be no further lying involved. There’s only the truth of the matter which is that you don’t have anything going on with him at all. He’s just been flirty with you and gave you shelter. That’s it.

You’ll just have to live with the guilt of lying to your best friend. Your best friend who is a powerful witch who could likely make you spill the truth if she wanted to and suspected you were holding something back.

Good thing she doesn’t seem to suspect anything.

“Alright, fine,” you acquiesce with another quiet sigh you breathe through your nose, tuning out the excited squeal that follows your reluctant giving in. You’re pretty sure every dog in a ten mile radius heard her.

“Deal!” She practically chirps, pinning you with a very expectant look. It’s the kind you can’t let down even if you decided to change your mind. Nothing for it then. You hope she won’t get too nosy, but you know how futile that hope is going to be.

“His name’s Jake, he lives by the coast. He’s very...” You struggle to find a word that encompasses the impression Jake’s left on you. There’s plenty of words that spring to mind yet you struggle to find the one that will wholly describe him in a single word.

“Attractive?” She chimes in, waggling both her eyebrows at you again in a frankly ridiculous display.

“That too. But I was going to say kind.”

It feels paltry, but it will have to do. His kindness in taking you in, no questions asked as foolish as that might have been, is what stood out to you most. It lingers on your mind even now. Although Roxy’s not wrong in her esteemed guess either. That he’s one of the handsomest men you’ve ever met certainly doesn’t hurt either.

Roxy’s salacious grin is dropped for one that’s a lot more softer, her gaze gentling as she regards you with a warmth that forces you to glance away. It makes you feel all the more shitty about how you’re kind of lying about your relationship with Jake here. Or rather, letting her get the wrong impression.

“Aww, good for you, Dirk! He better stay that way and treat you right,” she says and you know that the playful glint her eye hides a sincere threat on your behalf.

God, you love her.

“I’ll know who to turn to if he doesn’t.”

“Damn straight!” She beams fiercely, her reception of your easy confidence in her easing a tiny bit of the guilt. “Or not so straight, in this case. Anyway, you gotta tell me all the deets and just how attractive this babe of yours is.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you relent. Taking a moment to stall and think of what to tell her about Jake when there frankly isn’t that much to tell, you down the rest of your lemonade. After which she surprises you by sliding out of her seat, getting up and walking away.

You expected to be drilled for details right there and then, but she beckons you along and you follow dutifully without question.

“You can talk as I work,” she tells you as you’re led through the living room and taken to the room you know is reserved for rituals only. You’ve caught glimpses of it before during previous visits though you’ve never set foot in it proper before. This is the first time you’ve been inside as she leads you in.

Most of the cottage doesn’t show any signs of Roxy’s witchcraft. Everything looks pretty normal and it fits the image she exudes of being an ordinary woman. Albeit someone who likes pink and statues of wizards a lot. You know she does a lot of freelance programming work to help perpetuate that image and supply her income, too.  However, this room is the exception.

Here she keeps all her ingredients and everything she needs for her craft. The long workbench is cluttered with plants, crystals, bottles, books, and tools. Dried herbs and flowers hang from the walls.  Everything about the place fits the stereotypical image one might get upon hearing the word witch.

By only stepping into the room you feel a frisson of energy that you can’t place. It’s not exactly unpleasant, more akin to an unexpected cold breeze being blown in from an open window than anything. Yet it still sets your teeth on edge a little just from the strangeness of it.

Roxy simultaneously assures you and directs you to the center of the room by placing a hand on your back, gently shoving you. Standing smack in the center, you can see the faded chalk lines on the floor around you.

If this were anyone other than Roxy, this would be the point where you would have noped out by now. But no matter how apprehensive you might feel, you know her and you trust her with your life. She’s the best person you know.

“Sit your fine behind down, take your shirt off, and start talking, mister.”

You raise an eyebrow at her pointedly at her second command for you to take your shirt off.

“It’s necessary, trust me. And it’s not THAT cold in here so don’t even start.”

You wisely decide not to say anything in retort and tug your shirt off, tossing it to the side beyond the faded chalk lines before you sit down cross-legged on the floor. You can tell where this will go.

You’re proven right when she picks up a piece of chalk and draws a circle around you, adorning the outside of it with symbols you know jack shit about. You watch her work and decide to tell her about how you met Jake so as to keep up your end of the deal, omitting the reason why you were on the beach that night and letting her have the assumption you’d just been about to return home.

You omit the when’s and why’s, leading you to craft a story about a kind, handsome man who decided to treat you to supper after his dog bowled you over. You tell her about the movie you watched together, how he lives alone by the sea, and of course, most importantly, you describe his looks to her; tan, handsome and toned, how he makes buck teeth look appealing. You keep his vivid green eyes for yourself though.

Altogether it paints a decently convincing picture of you falling for someone and she buys it, hook, line, and sinker.

While you talk, you try to focus on what she’s doing to distract from how bad the pretense weighs on you. After drawing the circle and symbols, she spritzes the inside — and therefore, you — with a spray bottle and waits for the mist to settle before handing you some burning sage to hold.

The cold misting from before has left you with goosebumps and the smoke is making your nose itch. You staunchly don’t complain or question the necessity of any of it, you do as you’re told and simply observe her. When she moves to the workbench to start mixing things up that’s when you find you can no longer make sense of what she’s doing exactly. She moves about with such ease, grabbing ingredients left and right without hardly even looking, it’s almost like she’s floating or dancing.

You decide to watch her movements instead then; the practiced ease with which she uses the mortar and pestle and how deftly she handles small vials of liquid, pouring out measured drops. You can’t claim you know much about magic at all despite being considered an inherent magical creature. All the same, you know you’re in good hands. Even when she replies and comments on what you tell her, her hands never waver or stop moving.

When she’s done mixing up whatever it is that’s supposed to help you, she joins you in the circle with two wooden bowls in hand that she sets down by your side. One is filled with a silvery liquid that shimmers and the other just looks like a bowl of black ink. It’s probably not anything so simple. When she takes the sage from you to put away much to your relief, you can tell that the bowl with the black stuff has a strong earthy smell to it.

“I’ll be drawing some sigils on your back that will help with the homesickness, ‘kay?”

Homesickness is too mild a word for it. You’ve personally dubbed the affliction that plagues you whenever you’re on land for too long the Call of the Sea. Which admittedly doesn’t describe shit about what it feels like, so you suppose ‘feeling homesick’ works well enough.

You breathe out slowly and nod, forcing yourself to relax.

From your peripheral, you see Roxy dip two of her fingers in the silver fluid and how the seemingly thin liquid sticks to her fingers unnaturally before her hand disappears from your view. You keep yourself still when you feel a finger start to trace a shape on your back, the liquid weirdly ice cold on your skin.

She’s following the line of your spine, drawing an upside down triangle with a line through it  and then another triangle underneath it. You may not be a witch, but even you recognize what those are.

“Alchemical symbols?”

“Mmhm,” she hums cheerfully, the lack of actual verbal response telling you she’s concentrating hard and so you resolve to keep your trap shut for the moment. She’s likely reciting the spell in her head or whatever.

Knowing what she’s drawing means you can mentally follow along, so that’s what you do. The first is the symbol for earth, the second is water and it’s easy to predict what the next one is going to be when she starts drawing a circle: the symbol for salt.

The horizontal line she draws through the middle of the circle cinches it. Earth, water, salt then. Makes sense.

Against your vague expectations, she moves back up your spine to the top to draw above all the symbols already drawn. This one you have a hard time following, it seems to comprise out of multiple spirals or circles of some sort. Being unable to make sense of it draws on your curiosity and you forget your vow of silence as it gnaws at you.

“What’s that one?”

“A triskelion. To overcome adversity and tie it all together,” she explains, voice a tad distant though she doesn’t sound bothered by you distracting her with questions.

Still, you don’t ask any more of them. You’ll just assume that the order in which they’re drawn is important for it to work.

She cleans her hand next before dipping it in the black inky goo. It seems thicker than the silver substance did even though it also clings to her fingers in a strange way. There are more differences when she stars drawing. Where the silver liquid had felt cool like frost being etched into your skin, this doesn’t feel like anything when it makes contact. Weirder still: the smell of damp earth completely fills your nostrils. It messes with your senses, making you feel as if you’re standing in a forest after a rainfall while your eyes are telling you that’s most certainly not the case. 

Goddamn magic.

But hey, if this temporary solution works long enough for you to locate your sealskin, you’ll gladly inhale some dirt.

You feel her draw a circle around the triskelion, pausing after to dip three fingers in the black ink. You proceed to almost ruin the whole thing as she runs three fingers down from the circle swiftly by almost arching your back to escape the touch. It feels even more ticklish when she withdraws two fingers and keeps one going right along your spine, drawing a line straight through the salt symbol.

It’s a relief when that seems to be her stopping point and she pulls her hand away.

You hear her murmur something under her breath and then she inhales deeply and… fuckin’ blows on your back like you’re an oversized birthday cake decorated with candles and she’s the birthday girl making a wish.

You can’t quite suppress a shiver at that and you don’t hesitate casting her a Look over your shoulder. The innocent smile she gives you leaves you feeling doubtful that the last action was necessary. More likely she just wanted to make you squirm real good.

“A witch’s breath is a very powerful ingredient, I’ll have you know,” she says before you can so much as open your mouth.

“Sure,” you deadpan, your flat tone speaking volumes of how unconvinced you are.

She ignores it and nimbly gets back to her feet, offering you her hand which you take despite your apparent disgruntlement. It’s entirely feigned because you realize that after she finished, something inside of you has settled.

It’s like the Call has been smothered by a bunch of pillows. It’s not entirely gone, but it somehow feels significantly _less_ like a sound muffled. You actually have to focus on it in order to feel it and even then it’s faint, more a gentle hum than the persistent thrum in your veins it was before.

It’s a tremendous relief.

When you’re on your feet, she ushers you over to a standing mirror in the corner of the room to your puzzlement.

“D’you wanna see?” She asks eagerly.

You almost ask her what you’re supposed to look at when you realize you’ve made a wrong assumption.

“They didn’t just disappear?”

You’ve seen her draw sigils on things before and have watched them vanish as spells took effect. You thought that would be the case here too. Apparently you’re wrong.

“Nah. You’re gonna have some sweet-looking tats until the spell fades or you put your skin back on.”

She sounds far too pleased by that and you can’t say you mind that much. Not when the benefits are so very worth it and you’d always been fascinated by tattoos anyway.

Trying not to look too eager, you turn around slowly in front of the mirror and look over your shoulder to inspect her handiwork.

What you see shouldn’t be possible. You know she drew a line in the black ink over the symbols, yet somehow the symbols now appear as if they were drawn on top of it. Two of the lines dragged down from the black circle encompassing the triskelion bracket the first two symbols while the one dragged down from the middle runs straight through all of them to where the salt symbol ends.

The overall shape and the effect the black lines create kind of reminds you of a dreamcatcher.

Neater still is that when you shift just so, light reflects off the symbols and there’s a shine to them as if they’ve been drawn on you in pure silver.

“Okay, that’s pretty damn sweet,” you concede.

“Right? It’ll gradually start fading as the spell wears off. It should last you two weeks. Which, incidentally, is also when we’ll be back! I can renew it for you then or look into something more permanent if you find that life on dry land with your new beau suits you.”

You pretend not to see her reflection in the mirror exaggeratingly winking at you. So that’s two weeks in which you’ll have to find your skin.

“Hope he doesn’t mind you suddenly getting tattoos, by the way.”

“Oh, we haven’t...” You stop as you realize your mistake and then it’s already too late. You narrow your eyes at the mirror as you see hers widen in shock.

“Holy shit, seriously?”

“ _Don’t._ ”

Welp, there goes your carefully cultivated image of being a stone cold badass. She’s going to think you’re living out the cliché and that you’re actually serious about Jake when you barely even know the dude. Your relationship amounts to nothing more than the nice guy and the stray he took pity on and housed for the night.

It would be nice if someone came and rescued you from your own blunder here. Maybe decapitate you so you can never run your mouth again.

Nothing so fortunate happens.

Not even Callie has the decency to come home right now to be a friendly distraction and you have to suffer through Roxy exclaiming “ _swoon_ ” out loud while she presses the back of her hand to her forehead in her best impression of a swooning lady.

It’s no less grating than the mischievous grin. You know she’s going to milk this for all it’s worth and then some.

“You’ll be made into an honest man yet, Di-Stri,” she teases.

“Doubt it.”

Ignoring her cackling, you give her handiwork on your back one more grateful look over before turning away from the mirror to met by Roxy suddenly right there in front of you. She presses your shirt into your hands as she leans in and plants a kiss on your cheek.

“But really, I’m happy for you,” she says, voice hushed as if it’s a gentle secret.

It’s incredible how fast your annoyance evaporates, leaving only a heavy guilt behind that feels choking. You’re suddenly on the verge of spilling the truth if only to alleviate the sudden tightness in your throat.

She’s speaking up and cutting through your thoughts before you can fully form and order them into a coherent confession.

“C’mon! There’s something else I want to give you.”

God dammit, you really don’t deserve her.

You put on your shirt and follow after her, letting her seat you in the living room while she bounces off to grab whatever gift she intends to give you that you’re undeserving of.

The ‘something else’ turns out to be the standard basic necessities she hands out to creatures who can pass as human and want to live among them. Which is to say she gives you a cellphone and a credit card. If asked, she would provide you with legal documentation in a heartbeat too.

As it stands it’s already too much, but she’s having none of your attempts at declining the gifts, insisting that you use the credit card to “treat your bae” and the cellphone to keep in better touch with her and also send her pictures.

You end up relenting. There’s no use in trying to dissuade her once she’s made her mind up and you know it.

You stick around for a while, listening to her talk about clients and sharing your own exploits in the time you’ve been apart, until she has to start preparing a glamour spell for Calliope and get ready to travel. You leave her with heartfelt words of gratitude and two promises: to stay in touch through the phone and to come visit her and Callie when they’re back.

Once you’ve left her house, you have a decision to make.

You _could_ use the credit card she gave you to get shelter in town, find some motel to crash at for the time being until you find your sealskin or acquire more funds.

You could also return to Jake.

He did invite you to keep staying at his place so it’s a viable option that won’t cost you as much as trying to make it on your own would. There’s also the matter of the pictures and updates you promised Roxy. Sure, you could go back to see him even if you did get a room in town, but it would be easier if you were around him more consistently, wouldn’t it?

That’s totally why you find yourself starting back the way you came and no other reason whatsoever.

You just hope he was actually sincere about the offer and not merely being nice for politeness’ sake.

When you reach his place and he opens the door after you’ve waffled about your decision on his doorstep for a bit before getting going through with it, he looks pleasantly surprised and then he smiles warmly at you, eyes crinkling around the corners.

You think he meant it after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked this fic up as my nanowrimo project so expect more frequent updates! Hopefully I can get a weekly schedule going.


	3. between the west, between the east

It’s the fourth day now and Jake still hasn’t asked you to leave. You're beginning to think he enjoys the company and to be fair, so do you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever truly stayed with anyone for an extended period of time and getting caught up in someone else’s daily rituals is an interesting experience. It helps that everything about Jake fascinates you and you feel drawn in, ever hungry for more knowledge about him. Although you’re burning to know what his deal is, you don’t ask questions so as not invite him to start asking you any.

It’s an unspoken arrangement that’s been working so far. He doesn’t seem to mind your reticent nature and he’s happy enough to chatter away about inane things. Mostly movies or trips he’s been on around the world. Although he has spells where he goes quiet and distant, too. You’re not sure what to make of those.

Whatever the cause of them, it’s not you or so he’s assured you the time he caught you staring at him in concern. You learn to leave him be when he has those moments and let him retreat to wherever he wants to go. It’s usually his room or to the bench on the porch, but he’s wandered off to the lighthouse before. You pick up the slack and make yourself useful around the house whenever he sequesters himself.

He doesn’t let you pay him for staying here — leaving Roxy’s credit card mostly unused so far — nor does he let you do much in the way of chores other than help with the dishes or let you accompany him when he walks Halley. So you take your chances to repay him wherever you can in whatever little ways that present themselves.

Nothing really happens between you two either, to your confused disappointment. He keeps being flirty with you, but he never truly acts on it and whenever you try to hint at your interest, he seems to pull away or play ignorant. It’s a weird dance that you don’t know the steps to. You don’t dare push it for fear of losing what you have going currently.

The domesticity you’ve found yourself settling into is really rather nice. It makes the loss of your sealskin more bearable almost as much as Roxy’s amazing spellwork does.

That doesn’t mean you stop looking though. Far from it.

Although Jake does nothing to hurry you along or ask about it much, you use "trips to the consulate" as your excuse to duck out and go look for it. You haven’t had any luck so far and every day that passes and you return to Jake’s home empty-handed leaves you feeling more and more like the search is futile, hope waning.

You’ve even resorted to hanging around the harbor, eavesdropping on fishermen in the vague hope that you’ll hear something about a sealskin having been found. Nothing. Not so much as word about any seals or anything seal-related even.

Your trips away from Jake’s place have been growing shorter and shorter while the loss gnaws at your thoughts more and more; an ever-present worry there in the back of your mind.

You know you’re going to need Roxy’s magical helping hand in order to locate it when she gets back and that’s going to involve fessing up. It will mean disappointing and upsetting her, no doubt going to make her feel like you didn’t trust her when that’s not the case at all. You preemptively feel shitty about it.

In a vain attempt to assuage the guilt, you send her photos of Halley, the view from the lighthouse, and some sneaky shots of Jake. At least the first photo of him he’d taken himself after you showed him the phone you’d been given and he promptly added his own number.

You’re starting to feel pretty resigned to your friend-disappointing fate.

As such, you’re considering staying in today or maybe you could offer to accompany Jake when he goes to buy groceries in town and really get the full domesticity bingo. Another option is letting him talk you into a movie marathon. You’ve been watching movies regularly in the evenings and you know he’s been itching to show you a full trilogy in one go.

It seems like a solid plan.

At least until Jake doesn’t show for breakfast. At first you think he’s just having a lie in and you decide to take Halley on his morning walk for him. However, when he still doesn’t appear from his room by lunchtime you start getting a little worried. He could be having one of his reclusive spells again, but he’s usually still mindful of Halley and you don’t think you’ve caught him neglecting to eat before.

When lunchtime passes and it starts getting close to being time for Halley’s afternoon walk, you decide that enough is enough. If he gets mad then so be it, you think you’re plenty justified in your worry for him at this point.

You’ve watched Jake heat things up and cook enough times now that you can confidently heat up some soup on your own without being afraid of potentially burning down the kitchen. You do that and take a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of water on it with you as you ascend the stairs. You haven’t been to his room before and it makes you feel nervous for some reason you can’t place.

You ignore it and whatever other apprehension you might be feeling, plunging on.

There’s only a tiny bit of hesitation lingering when you reach his door. Taking a deep breath in, you carefully and a touch awkwardly knock on the door.

“Jake?”

You hear the sound of blankets rustling and that alone is an immense relief. At least he didn’t die in his sleep or whatever.

“Just a sec.”

His voice sounds… odd. You can’t quite put your finger on why. Maybe he got sick? You hope not, you have no idea how to take care of a sick person. Not that it would stop you from trying, of course, you owe him that much. You just don’t want to fuck things up more for him with your incompetence.

You hear some more faint shifting from behind the door though nothing you can clearly make out other than what you think might be a sniffle before he calls out again.

“Come in.”

Staunchly ignoring the anxious flutter in your gut, you open the door and step inside without further waffling.

The first thing you notice is how the walls are covered with movie posters. It’s not a surprise to you, you’re already aware of Jake’s love for movies. What does stand out to you is how the posters seem to prominently feature blue people which... okay, a little weird. Not that it fazes you. You can respect someone being this upfront and open about their proclivities. So he likes fictional blue people. Fine, whatever. You figured he was a bit eccentric, being out here on his own and willing to take a stranger like you in at the drop of a dime.

What fazes you a lot more is the sight of Jake.

He’s… a mess, kindly put. He’s still in his PJ’s, sat upright in his bed, eyes red and puffy. There’s an open photo album on the bed with him.

You can guess what this means and it’s worse than him being sick because this is even more out of your ballpark. Emotional support is not exactly your strong suit when aloofness and distance is how you roll when it comes to people with only one real exception.

“Hey, man,” you try for casual, unsure how or even if you should acknowledge the obvious cried-my-eyes-out state he’s in. “Brought you something to eat and drink.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you! Sorry I missed breakfast and made you come up here.”

His voice is only slightly strained and the wry, apologetic smile he gives you almost seems normal enough. It’s a decent performance, you give it maybe a solid seven out of ten. Despite his best efforts, you’re far from convinced.

“Uh, you missed lunch too, actually.”

If it weren’t for the circumstances being what they are, how wide his eyes go might have been comical.

“Wait, what time is it?” he asks as he frantically pats around the bed for, presumably, his phone.

You take mercy on him, offering a quick response as you carefully step closer to put the tray down on his bedside table.

“Like quarter to two or so.”

“Shoot!”

There’s nothing funny about how his surprise fades into a forlorn expression, a hint of genuine distress on his face. He looks overwhelmed as he opens and closes his mouth, struggling for words. 

“Don’t worry, I already fed and walked Halley this morning,” you interject gently, hoping to assuage some of the worry that might have sprung to mind.

He looks relieved at that, so you figure it works.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, sliding back to looking guiltily sheepish. “I’m so sorry, chum. I didn’t mean to… Time just got away from me, I’m afraid. Golly, what a piss-poor host I must seem.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’ve done more than enough for me. Helping out is the least I can do.”

His expression remains pinched, mouth an unhappy line, but he reluctantly nods.

It’s strangely hard to witness him looking so downtrodden and, feeling awkward, you look away. That’s when your gaze unintentionally strays to the photo album, eyes flicking over the pictures. You recognize the woman from the photos on the wall downstairs.

“That’s my grandma,” Jake says and you guiltily drag your eyes back up to him to see him smiling with sad fondness. “She raised me. She… um, passed away recently.”

A lot of things suddenly make so much more sense to you. He’s been grieving all this time.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say, the words feeling utterly inadequate in the face of his palpable sorrow. 

He nods and beckons you to sit. Figuring it’s better than standing there like an awkward oaf, you take the invitation and gingerly sit down on the edge of his bed.

“This is- _was_ her vacation home. Halley was hers too. She left me a lot of things, including her company.”

You don’t know why, but it suddenly clicks: the logo on the shirt you’ve been given to wear as pajamas. You remember what it’s from.

“Skaianet?”

“That’s right,” he smiles a little wider as if he’s proud of you figuring it out though the sadness in his expression doesn’t lessen. “There’s a whole hullabaloo about it and I just needed a break, so I came here.”

There’s more to it than that, you can tell. You’re not going to ask because that would be prying too much into what’s clearly a painful situation and because you’re preoccupied with the dawning realization of who exactly you’re with. When you’d idly considered him being rich before when he took you in, you never imagined it would actually be true. Even you, a creature of the sea, know Skaianet. Everyone does.

It’s one of the biggest tech giants out there, rivaled only by Crockercorp.

More pieces of the puzzle that is Jake English fall into place and you have no idea how to react to this revelation. It’s not like it’s going to change anything for you, you don’t give a shit about celebrity status or whatever and you’re not about to treat him different for it, but being entrusted with this knowledge still feels monumental somehow.

Luckily he goes on and saves you from having to think of an adequate response to the news.

“And then I found you.”

... By giving you something you know even less how to respond to. Great. You consider it worth it for how he brightens just a tiny bit more though.

“Well, glad to have been lost in the right time and place, I guess?” The words are more than a bit uncertain, but he lets out a quiet laugh at them and you feel better for it.

“I don’t mean to say that I’m glad for your misfortune or anything. It’s merely that… well, your company has been nice.”

“I get it,” you assure him.

At least you think you do. He might have come out here to hide away and be alone with his grief, but having you around could have been the distraction he sorely needed or perhaps you gave him a hint of normalcy he craved. After all, you didn’t know shit about him. You couldn’t treat him like the heir of a renowned company or treat him with kid gloves in the wake of his tremendous loss simply because you just didn’t know.

His reserved nature when it came to talking about himself in any meaningful way makes sense then.

As does the way he looks at you now with a tiny relieved smile and a hint of wariness in his eyes like he’s bracing himself for something. Maybe your attitude towards him to change now that you know.

You resolve to keep on treating him the same as you have the past few days. This doesn’t really change anything in your eyes, merely helped make sense out of some of his behaviour, and if your presence is helping him somehow (unfathomable as that is) then the least you can do is stick around for now. Quite possibly he took you in as a means to distract himself, but you don’t even care. You’re both benefiting from this arrangement so why not?

You can be his walking, talking escapist fantasy: the mysterious vagabond taken in. So long as you’re provided with food and shelter, you hardly mind playing your part in whatever narrative he might have imagined here.

It’s fine. You can handle this.

Hopefully.

“How about you eat that soup and take a shower?” You suggest, keeping your voice flat and casual as usual. You don’t let any of your hesitance and discomfort at being so out of your depth bleed into your voice. “And after, if you feel up for it, you can join me for Halley’s afternoon walk. Some fresh air might do you good.”

Breathing in the salty ocean air might not be as comforting to him as it is to you with all your ties to the sea, but it might help him to get out of the house for a bit. You doubt that staying in this room, pouring over memories and wallowing, any longer than he already has will improve his current state much.

You don’t press it though nor do you ask for more information or offer meaningless platitudes.

He looks glad as he takes a shaky breath in, reaching up to rub at his reddened eyes, before exhaling slowly and nodding.

“That’s a swell idea.” The slight curve to his lips is barely noticeable yet he looks lighter, the line of his shoulders more relaxed. You’ll count that as a tentative success.

You give him a nod in return and stand to take your leave so he can have some alone time to compose himself. You don’t make it two steps before there’s a grip on your wrist halting you. You don’t know why it causes something in your chest to tighten.

“Dirk?”

Maybe it’s his tone of voice that does it. His voice sounds small.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” he says, quiet and so painfully sincere like you’ve done way more than merely bringing him some soup and water.

You have to swallow hard before you can manage a response.

“No problem, man.”

You beat a hasty retreat when your wrist is released. The warmth of his grip still lingers on your skin when you reach the bottom stair where Halley’s waiting for you.

 

* * *

 

To your mild surprise, Jake does come down to join you for the afternoon walk after following your suggestions dutifully.

You decide to walk along the shore with him where the waves offer a soothing rhythm, taking turns to throw a piece of driftwood for Halley to fetch. Understandably, he’s a lot more subdued than he would normally be, quiet and distant in the way he is during his spells. In spite of that, the walk is a companionable one.

He walks close, your arms and shoulders brushing every now and then, and you don’t say anything about it, letting him have that solid reminder of your presence while a comfortable silence reigns between you. Even Halley is less exuberant than he usually is, ambling along and sticking close, perhaps sensing the mood and acting accordingly.

It makes the walk a peaceful one and you stretch it out a fair bit until the sun starts getting low.

By the time you get back, Jake appears more settled and at ease. It’s a far cry from how wretched he’d looked when you’d come into his room and you’re glad for it. Deeming it too late for groceries now and not wanting to force him out among other people, you decide to make do with whatever he’s got.

Under his guidance you end up making homemade macaroni and cheese for dinner. It’s stupidly simple, but you feel proud anyway when you succeed and he compliments you. It feels like another hallmark reached in passing as a human. You’ll be a real human boy yet at this rate.

Settling on the couch with him, you let yourself get roped into the Disney marathon he insists on after he offhandedly mentions something about a Disney movie and you reveal you’ve never actually seen one. Apparently it makes your childhood a deprived one which… yeah. No kidding. You grew up a lone selkie with only seals for company. It’s not exactly the standard fare.

But of course you can’t tell him that. You simply concede and let him get on with it.

The animation turns out to be good and he gets progressively more chattier and like his normal self so you hardly mind. It’s a lot better than some of the movies he’s wanted to watch before and it seems to cheer him up. Watching these animated movies is hardly a hardship when it gets him singing along and talking about his childhood with his grandma fondly.

Even if The Little Mermaid leaves you feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

It’s made up for when, at some point, your knees end up touching and he doesn’t pull away for the rest of the marathon.

It’s a loss then when it’s over and he finally does, turning the TV off before shifting to face you.

“Say, Dirk,” he starts and there’s a slight hesitancy to his tone that grabs your attention immediately. You play it cool.

“Hm?”

“I know we’re basically watching movies and such almost every night and it’s a great rip-roaring time,” he says and then pauses, prompting you to nod your agreement to encourage him on. “I was wondering, would you mind a change of setting terribly? I was thinking we could go catch a movie in town tomorrow.”

Is he… asking you out on a date?

The way he’s looking at you expectantly, expression otherwise neutral, doesn’t tell you a damn thing whether it is or not. You don’t want to presume nor do you want to ask and potentially make things very awkward.

“Sure. I don’t mind,” you say as casually as possible, trying desperately to gauge his reaction for the answer.

He gives you that adorable, big, buck-toothed grin and all it tells you is that it makes your knees go a little weak and nothing about the outing being a date or not.

“Aces! Let’s decide on a movie tomorrow then.”

You nod, still mentally floundering for the answer when he gets up and bids you good night. Nothing about him gives you even the slightest hint or betrays anything about his feelings on the matter and you end up mumbling “good night” in response, already mourning the loss of the warmth of his knee against yours.

You fervently hope that you’ll figure it out tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

Predictably you still don’t know whether Jake intends it to be a date or not by the time you’re leaving the house with him.

The entire day he’s acted like he normally would, having recovered from his descent into grief and being his usual chipper self. You only learn that he’s looking forward to going to the cinema with you and that’s it. No indication that it might be more than just two bros going to see a movie together.

It sure sounds like a date when he suggests you two go out to eat after the movie’s over though.

But you don’t know for sure and it’s privately driving you mad.

It distracts you from actually enjoying the superhero flick when you’re there. He’s leaning into your space, jostling your shoulder with his and excitedly whispering into your ear every now and then whenever a big moment happens on the screen. Save for the whispering, it’s really not all that different from how you watch movies at his home. You don’t gleam anything from it other than how his hot breath against your ear has to be the most distracting thing in the world you’ve ever experienced. It only adds to the frustration.

Dinner is no more enlightening.

He takes you to a casual restaurant where he claims you can get the best burgers in town. He discusses the movie with you and there’s some bumping of knees under the table that subtly catch your breath every time, yet nothing truly definitive telling you what this is. No distinctive line is crossed to tip the outing from just hanging out to for sure being a date.

By the time you get back, you’ve had the best chicken burger in your life, but you’re none the wiser.

Jake isn’t acting any different either. After Halley’s evening walk, you end up taking turns to shower before you’re both curled up on opposite ends of the couch with Halley wedged between you acting as a warm, fluffy foot warmer as you read together. Jake has got his nose buried in a comic while he’s graciously allowed you to pick a book from his grandmother’s collection.

It’s back to the domestic status quo.

Which is— fine. You like what you’ve got going on and for all that you’ve spend countless hours in libraries, reading books, and browsing the internet, you’ve never gotten to read _with_ someone to keep you company before. It’s a novel experience.

Even though you’d still very much would like to know what the maybe-date was about and how Jake really feels about you. You could ask, but… Nah. Too risky. Plus you don’t want to ruin the nice companionable silence that’s settled over you. It’s only occasionally broken when Jake snickers quietly over a funny panel and it’s not an unpleasant sound.

At least Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot proves to be an interesting read. Jake’s grandma sure had a fascinating range of interests going by her bookshelf. You gradually get into it enough that you forget to agonise over your dilemma of uncertainty.

At some point you feel something nagging at you and it’s only when you glance up that you realise it’s the weight of Jake’s gaze on you. Your eyes meet his and he doesn’t seem at all ashamed to have been caught staring, one corner of his mouth quirking up. You instantly feel self-conscious.

“Uh, hey,” you say, failing utterly to keep the uncertainty out of your voice.

“Hi,” he replies with a widening smile. “Good read?”

“Yeah, your grandma had great taste.”

The way his expression softens leaves you to believe that quite possibly complimenting his grandmother is the fastest way to this guy’s heart. Good to know.

“That she did,” he nods. “Anyway, I’m going to hit the hay now. Thanks for coming along with me today.”

“Of course. I enjoyed it.” Maddening uncertainty aside.

You watch him stretch out, feeling justified in doing so when you caught him in the act of staring, and Halley takes the movement as his cue to slide off the couch and saunter over to his bed.  Jake apparently sees an opportunity there to slide closer and pat your knee.

Right. A totally platonic bromeo-no-homeo thing to do.

“Me too,” he says and how his voice quiets down and pitches lower makes you question the whole platonic thing. Actually, coupled with how he’s suddenly looking at you, there might not be much to question at all.

There’s an intensity to his gaze that keeps you frozen. It’s ridiculous. You’ve never felt so paralyzed about this before. If he were anyone else, you would have leaned in and kissed him by now, pinned him down and straddled his hips.

But Jake’s not just a warm body to chase your crushing solitude away with for a night or two. He’s been different from the start. He’s made you feel more human than any of your hook-ups have just by virtue of taking you in and involving you in his daily routine, not expecting anything from you other than to have your company near.

You don’t want to ruin that with your desire for more, greedy and selfish that you are for not being satisfied with the incredible gift you’ve been given already.

It’s not even about possibly losing the roof over your head and the free meals you’ve been getting now. It’s a lot more about how you don’t want to take advantage of him, lonely and grieving as he must be.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he takes the initiative then.

You see it coming and you also really don’t. He leans in further, eyes sliding shut and releasing you from their captivating green hold. Unfortunately you’re no less immobilized when his lips brush against yours. The sensation arrests you down to your very breathing. The kiss is chaste and fleeting, only lasting long enough to give you the impression of warm, slightly chapped, plush lips before he’s drawing back again. You’re not even given the chance to reciprocate. Not that you could have, frozen as you are.

It’s Jake who looks uncertain and downright bashful now, biting down on his bottom lip and furtively glancing up at you through his eyelashes, a flush spreading across his cheeks. It’s quite the affecting sight and you feel your own face heating in response.

It’s absurd. It’s possibly the most innocent kiss you’ve ever gotten and here you are, tongue-tied and blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Um, good night,” Jake mutters as he gets up and beats a very hasty retreat before you can so much as think of a response or get yourself to unfreeze and do _something_. You’re left stunned on the couch, staring at the space he vacated.

Maybe it was a date after all.

Part of you is tempted to go after him, chase him down for more of that because holy shit, are you willing and you want him to know. But you don’t think that’s the right move to make here. Whatever you’ve got going on between you, it requires a careful touch. For now you let him have his escape and settle for knowing that you haven’t been imagining things and there is, in fact, a mutual attraction happening.

Doesn’t leave you less gobsmacked after what just happened though.

You glance at Halley as if he can commiserate with you. Sadly he’s no help, curled up into a donut shape and already fast asleep. You contemplate your phone for 0.5 seconds before dismissing the thought swiftly. No doubt that Roxy has been under the impression you’ve already been smooching up a storm with Jake (if only) and you’re not about to get into a talk about emotions.

Knowing there’s no way you’ll be able to focus on your borrowed book now, you decide to grab your pillow and blanket and make a valiant attempt at sleeping.

As you lie down and settle in, you’re struck by the sudden realisation that you haven’t thought about your lost skin once today and the giddy warmth that’s nestled itself in your chest after the gentle press of lips is washed away.

You’re absolutely terrified of the implications that holds.

Sleep takes a while to come and seize you, offering relief from your fruitlessly meandering thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Ever since Roxy’s spell you’ve been sleeping a lot better. After last night, you’ve backslid a little. You’ve woken a few times through the night although it’s not nearly as bad as your first night in Jake’s home had been. As such, you feel somewhat better when you wake, the terror of your revelation still lingering in the back of your mind, but the feeling no longer as prominent and pressing. 

Not that it makes it all that more easier to face the fact you might have caught a genuine case of Feelings here. The walking cliché, it’s you. You’ve always been Ariel, wanting to be where the people are, but this takes the fucking cake. You have no idea how to deal with it.

So you don’t.

Rather you focus on the odd nervous anticipation that’s taken hold of you as you wait for Jake to emerge from his room. Given his avoidant nature, it’s possible he might not come down at all or perhaps he’ll pretend nothing happened and carry on as usual. You’re awfully curious to find out what he’s going to do now that he’s made a more concrete move on you.

The moment you hear the stairs creak, you’re upright and more wide awake than you’ve ever been so soon after waking. You’re close to holding your breath as you listen to the sound of him descending the stairs until you realise how stupid that is and breathe normally. You’re an adult, not a kid trying to catch Santa in the act of breaking into your house to leave presents.

What Jake does when he comes into view and catches sight of you is smile, shyly. It makes your dumb heart flutter.

“G’morning,” he says, the timidity creeping into his voice slightly.

“‘Morning,” you reply and even though you’re not one for smiling much, your lips twitch up almost against your will.

It seems to assure him and his smile grows wider, more confident, as he nods before turning to move towards the kitchen. You get up and follow him.

The anticipation doesn’t leave you while you have breakfast. If anything, it builds and builds. He doesn’t bring the kiss up, but he’s not entirely pretending nothing happened. There’s a palpable tension in the air and he’s less talkative than normal, shooting you glances whenever he thinks you’re not looking. There are more incidental brushes of arms and legs, too.

You don’t know if you’re supposed to bring it up and you’re frankly too afraid of pressuring him or chasing him off to do so. You’re not sure if you’re playing a game of gay chicken here or what.

You do your best to go along with it. Where you’d normally be eager to press for boundaries, here you just do your best to go with whatever precedent he’s setting, whatever he’s comfortable with. Which so far seems to be fleeting touches or creating points of contact that could be considered innocent enough to an outside observer. Only you both know better.

It comes to a head when you’re clearing away the dishes and he puts a hand on your hip to steady himself as he leans over to put a mug away. The touch might as well be a burning brand for how painfully aware of it you are and as he leans in, you’re treated to more of his heat plastered against your side. That’s when you can’t take it anymore.

You deliberately turn into his touch, immediately making him look up at you. You have no idea what kind of look you’re wearing on your face, but it’s one that stops him cold and makes his lips part just so, pupils dilating. Your thread of patience and self-control snaps.

You’re leaning in and catching his lips with yours before you’re even fully aware that your body’s moving. There’s a soft, little gasp of surprise that escapes Jake. The noise is enough to bring you back to your senses and there’s instant regret at your bold action. Never mind that he’d done the exact same thing last night. Him taking the initiative is different from you doing it.

Before you can pull back his other hand comes to rest on the other side of your hips, holding you in place as he shifts and presses into the kiss. There’s an embarrassing noise of desperation that bubbles up and pops in your throat and you can’t bring yourself to care about it when it makes him clutch your hips tighter, drawing you in more.

_Hell fucking yes._

That’s about all in the way of coherent thinking you can manage. With a bodily go ahead sign given, you reach up and cradle his face in your hands. You feel more than hear him sigh out slowly through his nose, his warm breath gusting along your face. You waste no time at all getting lost in the sensation of your mouths sliding together.

For all that tension and desperation that’s been welling up, the kiss is a slow, savouring one. Unhurried as you both get a feel for each other and try to find the best possible angle. It stays chaste and nearly careful, but there’s definitely a sensuality to be found in the languid movements that stoke the fires and fuels your desire for more.

His hands are broad on your narrow hips and fuck if that isn’t setting you off, too.

You force yourself to pull back after a moment that somehow feels like both an eternity and too short a timespan, just to make absolutely sure and see if everything is copacetic. Jake looks deliciously dazed, staring at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and the sight further unravels your fraying self-control.

You manage to hold onto it long enough to mentally herd the words together to pose a question.

“So, I take it yesterday was a date then?”

You just have to know. Otherwise it might just nag at you forever.

Jake blinks, clearly taken off guard by the query before his lips twist into a wry line, a spark of amusement in his gaze.

“I would have thought that to be obvious.”

You either have to question his definition of obvious or re-examine your knowledge on flirting and dating. Somehow you think it’s more the former than the latter. Maybe he has difficulties coming out and saying what he wants. Whatever the case, it’s fine. You’ve been given a cue now that you have no trouble taking.

“Not really,” you reply, tone light and amused, before you close the distance between you again.

By doing so you don’t give him a chance to retort. He doesn’t seem to mind if how he enthusiastically responds to your more open-mouthed kiss is anything to go by. It takes very little coaxing to get him to open up for you and there’s an increasing heat and fervor as you deepen the kiss.

Your hands wind up in his hair while his have found their way to the small of your back, thumbs having slipped under the fabric of your borrowed T-shirt and pressing against your bare skin in a maddening tease. You want those hands all over you.

With any luck, they will be soon.

You’re in the middle of relishing the slick slide of your tongues, letting him explore your mouth to his heart’s content after you’ve had your chance to run your tongue over those adorable buck teeth, when you’re unexpectedly interrupted by a series of loud sounds.

It takes your pleasure-addled mind a second to figure out it’s knocking. Someone’s knocking on Jake’s front door and setting Halley off.

You both freeze and you lean back enough to see your own wide-eyed look being mirrored back at you. Jake has never gotten visitors before and he looks as surprised as you feel to apparently be getting any right this moment.

You contemplate ignoring it and ushering him upstairs instead, but that’s not your call to make. This is his home, not yours.

He stays frozen though, apparently caught in indecision or so you imagine. When his brows furrow in unhappy confusion, you decide to take pity.

“I’ll get it,” you assure him, stealing a quick kiss before you step away from him with great reluctance. You’re still in your borrowed pajama outfit and your hair’s probably a disheveled mess, but it’s worth it for the relieved nod he gives you.

In what’s likely a completely futile attempt, you run a hand through your hair to try and tame it as you force your feet to carry you out of the kitchen and to the front door. Halley has already beaten you to the punch, pacing and barking in the hall. You gently nudge him aside and back with your hip while you straighten your shirt and fervently hope your lips aren’t too kiss-swollen and obvious.

Ignoring the kind of undignified state you’re in, you open the door.

There’s a pleasant, plump woman standing on the doorstep. She looks excited right up until she lays eyes on you and her expression falls to be replaced with utter bewilderment at the sight of you. Clearly you’re not who she was expecting.

“Uh, hi?” You offer like the amazing conversationalist that you are.

Her gaze lowers down to your T-shirt, lingering on the symbol, before it snaps back up to your face and she seems to recover from her surprise, a polite smile hastily plastered on her face.

“Why, hello! Is Jake here?”

Jake didn’t say to lie and pretend he’s not home so you see no reason to do anything other than nod. Not sure whether you should just let her in, you call out over your shoulder.

“Jake?”

There’s a pause and then you hear footsteps coming from the kitchen. In your moment of diverted attention, Halley sees and takes his chance to slip past the feeble barrier of your skinny legs and charge at the visitor. You turn back with a spike of panic, ready to lunge after him, but like the absolute madwoman she must be, she kneels down, prepared to be bowled over by the furry freight train coming her way. 

“Oh, hi Halley!”

Or maybe there’s some obvious familiarity between them. Right. You stay hovering in the doorway, unsure and feeling distinctly out of place. You don’t remember Jake ever mentioning anyone other than his grandma, but you think this young woman might be family. She has the same buck teeth that Jake has.

You’re quite relieved when he appears by your shoulder though you don’t know what to make of the obvious shock when he sees who’s kneeling on his front step, petting his dog. You can’t tell if it’s a good or a bad kind of shock. His voice doesn’t betray anything other than surprise either.

“ _Janey?_ ” He gasps.

“Hello, Jake!”


	4. between the time, between the place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye on the tags as things are getting a bit more spicy and if you wanna know the exact flavour of spice! I'll be adding more with every new chapter that requires them. Also added an estimate for the amount of chapters this fic will have since most of it has been written now thanks to NaNoWriMo. It's turning out longer than expected so I hope y'all like long fics and also this longer chapter, oops.
> 
> (Bonus: if anyone was curious as to what Dirk's sigils might look like, I made a mock-up [here](http://ghylle.tumblr.com/post/180515645143/hey-everyone-heads-up-ill-be-uploading-the-next).)

“Golly, what are you doing here?” Jake asks.

Not being privy to what their relationship actually is other than potentially related, you stand back and observe. Or well, maybe not stand back as much seeing as Jake stays hovering behind you, peering over your shoulder at the impromptu visitor. You can gleam more from that alone — the barrier he creates using you by remaining where he is — and you think his question sounds a little accusatory.

You surmise he might not be too happy to have this ‘Janey’ here. Possibly that might simply be because she interrupted you two having a… moment, but it’s too early to say.

“I came to see how you were doing, of course!” She says brightly, rising to her feet with one last pat on Halley’s head. “I had the sneaking suspicion you weren’t being completely honest with me during our chats and you sure can get folks worried when you don’t reply for days on end, you know.”

“You didn’t have to fly all the way out here just for that,” he practically whines.

“Clearly I did,” she states, matter-of-fact, in a tone that clearly brooks no argument. “Now are you going to invite me in and introduce me to this gentleman of yours?”

Her sharp gaze falls on you and you have to fight an odd rush of emotions at being called _his_. You obligingly go with the tug on the back of your shirt where Jake curls his fingers into the fabric, directing you back inside.

Once you’re all inside and Halley has been herded back in, you become acutely aware of the fact that you and Jake are lounging around in pajamas whereas the visitor is smartly dressed, looking like a businesswoman. You both must look like lazy slouches compared with her.

You’re suddenly itching to get dressed when only minutes before you would have liked nothing more than to get undressed entirely.

“Dirk, this is my esteemed cousin, Jane Crocker,” Jake motions between you with a resigned air about him. “Jane, this is Dirk Strider. He’s been staying with me as my house guest.”

She tilts her head a fraction at ‘house guest’ and you can just see the dubious suspicion in her eyes. You can’t say you blame her. You’re hyper-aware of what you must look like dressed in his clothes because you couldn’t be assed to buy yourself some pajamas despite having bought other clothes with Roxy’s credit card.

Given that you’d been sticking your tongues down each other’s throats mere moments before, it’s not like her obvious assumption is entirely wrong either.

“Charmed to meet you!” She says cheerfully, the doubt wiped cleanly from her face when she looks at you and offers her hand.

You can respect a good poker face like that.

“Likewise,” you reply in your usual neutral tone of voice, accepting her hand. The handshake she gives you is unsurprisingly very firm. Damn.

“Jake didn’t tell me he was keeping a guest.”

She has no qualm throwing Jake an accusatory look right then and there and how it makes him wilt should maybe ruffle your proverbial feathers. Instead you find yourself impressed and intrigued by her. Jake’s never mentioned his cousin before and you’re dying to know why. Clearly they must be close in some way or else she wouldn’t have bothered to fly all the way over to Scotland just to check up on him.

“He very kindly took me in after I lost my passport and basically all the belongings I had on me,” you explain, not sure what else to do other than speak the truth. You see Jake tense in your peripheral.

“Did he now?”

Her head swivels to look at Jake again, eyes narrowing and lips pursing. You can’t say you blame her. Housing a random stranger without telling another soul is definitely not the smartest thing to do. It’s not the first time you’ve worried about Jake’s questionable and naive decision to take you in just like that. It’s made all the worse for the fact he didn’t tell anyone.

How lucky for him that you’re not a crazy serial killer.

“Q-quite an interesting tale, that!” He blurts out, looking sheepish and shifting guiltily on the spot.

“So why haven’t you told me it before?” Her tone remains even and calm. It could almost be mistaken for casual if it weren’t for her piercing stare. “You’re normally all about regaling me with your grand tales of adventure.”

“Er...” he visibly flounders, at a loss.

You honestly don’t know what to make of the situation. This seems to be leading up to an argument and boy, you are not equipped to handle that one bit. You also don’t know how to feel about the fact that he’s apparently not said a word about you to someone important to him. You’re his… what? Dirty little secret who could have potentially murdered or hurt him and no one would have known until it was too late?

What the fuck, Jake.

“It… kind of slipped my mind?” He finishes weakly.

It’s complete bullshit and both you and Jane know it. You don’t say anything though because what the hell is there to say about such a flimsy lie?

Jane’s nostrils flare and her eyes widen, but rather than justifiably flipping off the handle, she breathes out a sigh after a second. There’s a weariness passing over her face that makes you feel for her.

“I’m sorry, Janey!” he exclaims, a silent plea in his voice. “Look, I’ll tell you all about it, but gosh, you’ve come such a long way. Do you want something to drink? Or eat?”

He’s babbling as he attempts to usher her to the kitchen. You end up exchanging a look with her before she gives in and goes with the very poor change of subject.

“Some coffee, please,” she relents.

“Coming right up, madam!”

You follow along but end up lingering in the doorway. You’re not sure you want to stick around like an awkward third wheel and the subject of contention when it’s apparent they have some things to smooth out and catch up on first.

You don’t want to abandon Jake entirely and it would probably be rude if you escaped the house anyway, but you think you can dip out for a brief moment.

“I’ll go get dressed and clear the couch,” you tell the room at large.

Jake glances at you with a hint of desperation in his eyes though he nods while Jane gives you a wan, grateful smile.

“Feel free to use the other room upstairs,” he says and you offer a nod in return before getting out of dodge.

You swiftly move to the living room, collecting your stuff and taking the blanket and pillow with you when you abscond up the stairs, trying to ignore the fading sounds of Jake and Jane’s voices behind you. Awfully curious as you are, you’re not about to be caught eavesdropping.

You enter the room which Jake had offered you the first night you stayed here. It’s the only of which the door has remained closed all the time. Stepping inside, you know instantly why that is as it confirms your suspicion. It must have been Grandma English’s bedroom. There’s a bigger bookcase here than downstairs, filled with science-y books, and there’s plants. Lots of plants. Mostly flowers hanging from the ceiling. Jake must have been taking care of them because although some are wilting, most look alright.

Resisting the urge to nose around, you fold up the blanket and set it down on the bed with the pillow where it will stay out of the way and out of sight since there’s another visitor in the house now. You could have switched to this room at any point, but it’s not like you minded the couch and you weren’t sure how long you would be staying. You’d naively hoped to find your sealskin quickly.

That hope has faded a lot by now.

You’ve reached a point where you’ve accumulated some personal belongings even. A backpack with a few changes of clothes and some basic necessities. There’s the stuff Jake has given you too, like the pajamas and a spare toothbrush. Already you’re in for a longer haul than expected and a part of you has not been minding it as much as you feel you should.

You try not to think about it too much.

Giving the titles in the bookcase only a cursory glance, you take your time changing and getting ready. As tempting as it is to grab one of the books and start reading to stall for time — you sure spontaneously developed an interest in nuclear physics all of a sudden and there are books about the very subject right here, fancy that — you don’t want to be rude. Plus, Jane could give valuable insights on Jake and your need to know more about him in light of your shifting relationship wins out.

So you only linger for as long is reasonable before stepping out again, properly dressed.

As you do, you meet Jake in the hallway. He looks distinctly frazzled as he makes a beeline for you. You manage to suppress the instinctive urge to step back. It would only flatten you against the door anyway and all he does is stop right in front of you, the distance crossed so he can drop his voice to a hushed tone.

“I’m terribly sorry about all of this. I had no idea she was even planning on coming down here.” The words come out as a rushed tumble and you’re quick to hold your hands up in a placating gesture.

“Hey, it’s alright,” you try to assure him.

He doesn’t looks too reassured, running an agitated hand through his hair and dodging your gaze for a moment before sighing.

There’s a pang of sympathy at the sight of him so obviously rattled. He’s not dealing with this surprise visit well at all. Guess you’ll have to handle it better and pick up the slack.

“I’m going to change now. I’ll be back down in a jiffy,” he says, glancing back at you apologetically. “Don’t mind Jane, she means well.”

Well, that’s not foreboding at all or anything.

You nod and there’s a pause in which you’re staring at each other, your eyes drifting down to his lips before you catch yourself and then you see him do the same. He gives you a quick, shy smile before darting away into his room. Steeling yourself for whatever Jake’s warning was about you, you head downstairs.

Jane is seated by the kitchen table, a mug clutched between her hands and her eyes distant as she gazes at nothing in particular. She looks exhausted and almost kind of vulnerable until she catches sight of you in the doorway and every trace of fatigue is cleanly wiped away from her expression as she smiles politely and gestures for you to sit opposite her.

“Long flight?” You ask conversationally as you take the indicated seat.

It makes her smile turn more wry, humming in confirmation.

“Flying’s always such a fuss,” she says, straightening in her seat and looking more alert as she gazes at you with keen, blue eyes. “Jake told me he found you on the beach a few days ago.”

Getting right to it then. You’re not surprised. Your first impression is that she’s a very sharp woman, one who clearly cares a lot about Jake, and so some actual questioning is to be expected. Your flimsy cover story worked well enough with Jake. Somehow you doubt it will be that easy with Jane. You’ll have to tread lightly.

“That’s right,” you reply, offering nothing else beyond the simple answer.

She doesn’t appear to care or maybe even expected it, jumping right to the next question.

“So you’ve been with him this entire time, correct?”

Huh. Not quite what you were expecting she was going to ask. Not knowing where this line of questioning is going, you only nod.

You can see the family resemblance even better when she bites down on her bottom lip, gaze drifting down to the mug in her hands for a second before it flits back up to catch yours. She looks tired and concerned, her mask put down.

“How is he really?”

Oh.

There’s palpable worry in her eyes and even though you’re not sure Jake would want you to say anything, you feel compelled to give it to her straight. She came all the way here to check up on him and you highly doubt Jake has been telling her how he’s been coping. Knowing what you know of him and his avoidant nature, he’s probably been pretending he’s fine. As well as just downright ignoring her, apparently.

“Grieving,” you say after a quick glance thrown over your shoulder to make sure you two were still alone. “But alright, all things considered.”

She breathes out slowly before nodding, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

“He was so close with his grandmother. I know it must be hard on him, but he refuses to talk about it.” There’s a helpless frustration bleeding into her voice. It’s clear she wants to help, but Jake is likely not letting her do so.

“I don’t think he likes to,” you offer.

“But he told _you_ about it?”

There’s a mild accusation there in her tone. You don’t let it bother you. You get what it must seem like, Jake seemingly confiding in a total stranger and not the people who care about him. Of course that would sting.

“Took a while before he did and even then he hasn’t said much. All I know is that his grandmother was Jade English and she died.”

She’s studying you as if she’s trying to find any hint that you’re lying and you know more than you do. You meet her gaze calmly and that appears to be enough for her and she nods.

There’s a different wariness in how she regards you now though. You figure it probably has to do with you knowing that Jake is related to the founder of Skaianet and all that entails. Which, fair enough.

“Right. So, Mr. Strider, what about you? It’s quite the unfortunate situation you’ve found yourself in.”

There it is. That’s starting to look more like the grilling you were expecting.

“Yeah. I was real lucky Jake found me and is letting me stay here while I get my shit sorted again.”

“He’s- nice like that,” she says and you know she means ‘naive’ instead. “Where are you from?”

Now it begins.

You subtly draw in a breath and begin giving her the information she wants about who exactly you are and where you’ve come from. You keep your answers concise and confident, mostly truthful save for the parts that you just can’t be truthful about without telling her what you are. Not like she would believe you anyway. No one sane would unless they’ve already had brushes with the otherworldly. You would only sound batshit crazy and that’s not the impression you want to make.

So what you tell her comes down to being a wandering backpacker without a real home, a vagabond trying to find his lot in life. It’s true enough, no lies there. Of course it makes her suspicious, the wariness there in her gaze even though she keeps a polite smile on her face, until it comes to the subject of family. She seems more understanding and sympathetic when you tell her you have no family, that you grew up in the system.

More of a lie unless growing up with seals counts as a ‘system’.

Her questioning gets cut off when Halley comes bounding into the kitchen, having grown impatient for his morning walk. It’s also when Jake finally comes back downstairs, fully dressed, and you think he might have timed it that way. Walking Halley provides an immediate out for him.

Or it would if Jane didn’t cotton on and sweetly offers to go with him, claiming she’s fine when he insists she rest after her long flight.

You have to wonder what you have gotten yourself caught up in here. You have no interpersonal skills to speak of and no business getting involved, really. You’re contemplating escaping away into town for a while. Let them have their reunion and settle whatever is going on between them without your interfering presence.

It’s a sound plan until Jake speaks up.

“Well then, we should all go and have a jolly good time.”

There’s a hint of desperation in his eyes when he looks at you.

“Sure,” you find yourself agreeing, unable to say no to him. Damn it.

Fortunately Jane doesn’t mind or if she does, she doesn’t show it. She just finishes the rest of her coffee swiftly and slides off the chair.

“That’s settled then!” She says cheerily.

You resign yourself to being an awkward third wheel.

 

* * *

 

So, that’s how all three of you end up having a morning walk along the beach. For a little while Jake and Jane talk amongst themselves while you walk ahead and keep Halley entertained. It’s an arrangement that you’re fine with, but it doesn’t last. There’s a tension between them that’s obvious to even an outsider like you and you end up being drawn into conversation, quite possibly to keep it from escalating into an argument.

It’s not as bad and hideously awkward as you thought it was going to be.

Jane is actually quite pleasant to talk to when she’s not trying to dig into your past and possible relationship with Jake, sharp as a tac and with a good sense of humour. You decide you like her even if she stays subtly wary of you. At least that’s healthier than Jake’s apparent blind trust in you.

Jake, who is eager to keep the two of you talking together, keeps directing the conversation to either one of you. It’s a good thing you like him so much and Jane is agreeable company or else you might not have tolerated and indulged in his conversational shepherding. Jane goes along with it too. Whether that’s because she’s used to this or because she just wants to know more about you is hard to say. You suspect it’s the latter. She doesn’t strike you as a person who will put up with a lot of bullshit and Jake’s tactics feel obvious to you.

Still, the walk is more pleasant than you were expecting it to be with the strain between them and by the time you all get back, you don’t think you’ve given Jane too bad an impression of you. That’s really all you could hope for. You can’t fault her the lingering wariness likely born out of a protectiveness of Jake. You’re glad he still has someone looking out for him with his grandma gone.

You just wish you knew what the fuck was going on between them. The curiosity burns strong enough that you consider prying more information out of Jake later on.

Back in the house it becomes apparent that Jane is more or less dead on her feet, weariness catching up to her and her cheery facade slipping when she sinks into the couch. You figure she must have rushed over here as soon as she was able to after landing and dropping her luggage off wherever she’s staying. Jake really must have gotten her worried.

You and Jake exchange a glance and there’s a tightness to his shoulders and a guilty set to his frown that makes you think he realised the same thing.

“Jane, you’re welcome to take a quick kip in one of the rooms,” he says, voice gentled.

“No, that’s fine. I think I’ll go back to the hotel in a bit, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

You see Jake flinch slightly from the corner of your eye before he nods in response.

That’s all he does. Jake doesn’t offer for her to stay here instead of the hotel and you’re guiltily relieved about it. You don’t know how well you’d adjust to another person around and given the tension between them, you don’t think you’d last very long at all no matter how much you might like Jake. The thought of being caught between them and whatever’s brewing under the surface is just… no thanks.

There’s some more idle chatter until Jake offers her a ride back.

With a promise to come round for dinner the next day and some pleasantries exchanged with you, she takes him up on it and leaves.

It means you have the house to yourself and Halley for a little while and you make use of it to tidy up a bit. You get the sense that Jake isn’t too happy with Jane’s surprise visit, good intentions on her behalf or not, and if you get chores out of the way then he’ll have time to decompress.

Maybe the two of you can talk about what happened between you this morning, too.

You hope he at least straightens some things out with Jane on the ride to the hotel.

When he returns you get the feeling there’s been a Talk of some sort because he comes in looking like he’s the one who’s been on an exhausting plane ride across the world. He’s not even bothering masking it.

“Are you alright?” You approach hesitantly and when his eyes lift to meet yours, he does smile. It’s a relief even if his smile is a wan one.

“Just peachy keen.”

You pointedly raise an eyebrow at him, wholly unconvinced.

“Oh, fine,” he deflates. “I’m just… I wasn’t expecting her to come around like that. It’s a bit of a shock, to be honest.”

“An unpleasant one?” You venture, curiosity making you throw caution to the wind a little.

You watch him chew on his bottom lip for a second, conflicted, before he ultimately shrugs his shoulders.

“She’s my cousin and I love her dearly. It’s great to see her, truly,” he insists before taking a deep breath and plowing on. “But I came out here to get away from certain things and have some peace of mind. I know she means well, but family matters were kind of part of it.”

“So it’s complicated,” you fill in and he nods vigorously.

“Exactly that, dear chap,” he says ruefully.

You decide to take pity on him for the moment though your curiosity only grows stronger.

“C’mon, I’ll make us some tea.”

You gently usher him into the kitchen and into a seat, setting about making him his favourite tea while you contemplate how you can tactfully pry into affairs that don’t concern you and shouldn’t matter to you. They only do because you’ve found yourself more invested in Jake than you have any right to be. You’re already in too deep.

But you staunchly avoid thinking about that too much right now.

Jake’s quiet as you putter about the kitchen, only breaking the silence when you return to his side with two cups of tea. The instant you sit down to join him, there’s a knee pressed against yours and he offers you a grateful smile as he takes his cup from you. Both the easy affection and the smile make something in your chest stutter.

“Thank you, Dirk. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a standup gent like you in my life, but I’m glad you’re here.”

That… definitely doesn’t help whatever the fuck is going on inside your chest. Christ. Get a grip, Strider.

“No problem, dude,” you say coolly and you mentally applaud yourself for not choking. “It’s just tea. I’d say I owe you a lot more than that.”

“Not at all.” He sounds so sincere it almost hurts. “I might be getting more out of this arrangement than you do.”

“I highly doubt that,” you say, but you don’t argue any further than that. The fond look he throws you over his cup quells the urge immediately.

There’s a slight pause of silence in which he blows on his tea and takes a sip and you do the same, still trying to figure out what the most tactful way of prying is going to be. You don’t want to press and overstep your bounds nor do you want to send him running off to do his hermit thing, but you don’t want to ignore the situation entirely either. Not this time.

“Complications aside, you and Jane seem close,” you probe gently.

It’s maybe not as subtle as you would have liked, but it will have to do. You think it’s a successful enough attempt when Jake nods and actually brightens.

“Oh, yes. We were both set to inherit companies from a young age and as such, we spend a lot of time in the same circles. We were practically raised together,” he explains with a warm fondness in his voice.

You’re distracted by a sudden dawning realisation.

“Wait, so it’s Crocker as in Crockercorp?”

“That’s the one,” he says, blasé.

You have to wonder what turn your life has taken for you to be surrounded by rich, corporate heirs. This is not a crowd you ever even imagined brushing elbows with, much less be staying with. Not that Jake flaunts the wealth he must have. Save for the entertainment system, everything is plenty average in this small home. No doubt he and his grandmother could have easily afforded a much bigger and fancier beach house, yet they chose an abandoned lighthouse and everything inside is pretty humble.

It makes it all the more surreal knowing what social circles Jake must actually run in. It’s a weird dissonance. Jane is like the first real indication of Jake’s life outside of this vacation home and it’s jarring.

“Huh,” you eloquently supply, more than a little perplexed.

He chuckles, not unkindly.

“Frankly, she’s always been more into the whole inheriting a company thing than I have. She’s much better suited to it anyhow,” he speaks casually. However, how his fingers tighten around his cup don’t escape your notice. You’re not fooled.

“Is that causing trouble between you?” You press in a mild tone, cool like you’re not dying to know what the hell is going on between them.

You instantly feel bad when his expression crumbles, having to resist the absurd urge to reach out and physically wipe away the lines creasing between his brows as he stares hard at the cup clutched between his fingers.

He speaks before you can dismiss your own question and tell him to forget about it.

“More or less. With grandma gone, I’m supposed to step up to the plate and take over. Janey, bless her heart, has been encouraging me to do so. It’s just that...” He falters and the expression that settles on his face could best be described as abject misery.

You regret asking, but of course there’s nothing you can do to take it back now. You try a different route, something entirely out of your comfort zone and foreign to you. It’s better than just sitting there like a dumbass though.

Given that you’ve swapped spit this morning, you don’t think you’re out of bounds for reaching over and touching the back of his hand. You desperately hope it offers him some comfort in the same way Roxy’s casual touches do to you and you didn’t just make this weird.

He glances up at you, blinking in surprise, before his face softens and he lets go of his cup to take hold of your hand. Your breath stutters in your chest when his fingers slip between yours. Fortunately he doesn’t notice, too busy taking a deep bracing breath before he continues, his hand squeezing yours.

“I’m not sure I want to? I know it’s what’s been expected of me my whole life and grandma would want the company in the hands of someone she would have trusted,” his voice is strained and the frown has made a reappearance. It’s obvious he’s been agonising over this a lot. “But I’m not nearly as bright as my grandmother was, I don’t think. And I don’t have Jane’s knack for business one bit.”

You are so very, very out of your depth here. You know nothing of the struggle he must be going through. You haven’t had to deal with responsibilities like his. The closest you’ve come to it is the time where you felt like maybe you had to be responsible for the continued survival of your species. It’s not something that lasted long because there’s no way you could do that and stay true to yourself in the process. It doesn’t fall in line with your inclinations and so it’s just not you. You couldn’t force yourself to do such a thing.

Besides, what would the point be? All creatures like you are a dying breed, you’d only be delaying the inevitable and potentially tasking your offspring with the same futile burden. Fuck that.

It’s also not like you’ve ever had to deal with someone else’s expectations and pressures of others when it came to do that either. You really can’t compare that brief self-imposed expectation to what Jake is dealing with.

You don’t know how to help him. All you can do is squeeze his hand back and mentally grasp at straws.

It takes you a tiny moment to find the straw you want to go with, that might actually lead somewhere.

“What would your grandmother want for you personally?” You ask.

The question catches him off guard and derails whatever sombre train of thought he had going on, his attention zooming in on you as he tilts his head in confusion.

“Er, how do you mean?”

“Putting the company and everything related aside, what would she want for _you_ as an individual?” You ask and although he seems to get it a little, there’s still a lost look on his face that prompts you to keep going. “I might not know her at all, but it seems to me like she cared a great deal about you. Wouldn’t she just want you to be happy?”

You’ve seen the pictures on the wall and listened to Jake’s anecdotes about her. From what you know of the company and its ethics, she seemed like a good person and it’s all a guardian figure should want for their kid, right?

“I suppose so...” Jake says, hesitantly.

“But?” You press cautiously after a lapse of silence that makes it clear that Jake is not going to continue on his own.

“Well, it’s merely that… the company meant a lot to her and I can’t just abandon that now, can I? And Janey’s got such grand plans, too. Ways we could improve Crockercorp and Skaianet together. I don’t want to let her down either. We’ve been talking about this stuff since we were kids, it would break her heart if I just ditched it all.”

You hum thoughtfully, at a loss of what else to say.

“And I’m not even sure I want to let it all go either. Ugh, I don’t know what I want!” He runs an agitated hand over his face, hopeless frustration bleeding into the words.

You tighten your grip on his other hand briefly, considering your words carefully.

“You lost someone important to you, it’s alright to take the time to grieve. I don’t think anyone can fault you for doing so and putting such a huge life-changing decision on hold.”

“Jane does,” he mutters darkly. There’s bitterness there though it’s quick to vanish when he corrects himself. “Augh no, that’s unfair to say. She only wants what’s best for me.”

“Just tell her you need more time to sort things out.”

Although he looks dubious for a moment, Jake ends up nodding before letting out a big sigh and then turning to you with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry to unload all that on you.”

“It’s fine.” You shrug it off as if you weren't dying to know. At least you finally have a more complete picture of Jake English and what’s going on in his life, what drove him to come out here alone with only a dog for company. Losing someone and having to take up monumental responsibilities in the wake of that would send anyone running.

Yet there’s still an unanswered question that bothers you.

“Can I ask you something?”

Rather than being apprehensive about it, he perks up to your surprise.

“Of course! Anything,” he says, brightly.

Maybe he’s expecting something in particular from you and you’re about to dash his hopes with what you actually want to ask. It makes you hesitate slightly, but your need to know wins out.

“Why didn’t you tell Jane about me?”

Luckily he doesn’t seem offended or taken aback by the question. He only tilts his head to one side and considers it with a thoughtful noise.

“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted something for myself? If that makes sense,” he says before turning red for some reason you don’t understand until he splutters it out. “Which er, isn’t to say that I think you belong to me or anything! That’s not what I meant.”

You hide your amused grin behind your cup as you take a sip, ignoring the weird flutter in your gut.

“No, I get it,” you say, taking mercy on him. “Makes sense.”

Technically that did sort of make you his dirty little secret, but you figure it has more to do with Jake just isolating himself from everything that’s been stressing him out than anything else.

His cheeks are still adorably stained red as he breathes out a sigh of relief. He squeezes your hand one last time before drawing it back and you feel kind of absurdly bereft without his warm grip. You have to smother the clingy impulse to reach for him or seek contact some other way.

“I reckon we can expect Jane to come around often,” he starts reluctantly. “So we should probably stock up.”

There’s something about that casual use of ‘we’ that’s getting to you. Like you’ve been in his life far longer than you actually have, that this is normal, that you _belong_. It wraps around your heart like a vice, making it hard to breathe for a second.

It distracts you enough that you don’t notice Jake hemming and hawing by your side until he clears his throat uncomfortably, drawing your gaze.

“And uh, since it apparently wasn’t very clear last time, I was wondering… Would you care for another date tonight? Since Jane’s going to be here tomorrow and everything.”

Your heart strains against the grip already on it as he stares at you expectantly, looking far too appealing with the hopeful smile and still-reddened cheeks.

You know you’re getting in too deep. You shouldn’t be doing this. Roxy will be back in a few days and then you’ll be able to find your skin and you’ll have to leave. You can’t get attached and used to this very human sense of normalcy. To him.

“Sure, I’d love to.” The words slip out of your treacherous mouth, so very far out of line with your thoughts and what you know you should be doing. Agreeing is not what you had meant to do. Dammit.

Although in your own defense, how are you supposed to say no when Jake looks so hopeful and you agreeing has him lighting up like a Christmas tree? All timidity is dropped in favour of a blinding smile.

You’re so fucked. This time for reasons that have nothing to do with your sealskin.

“Capital! We can do some grocery shopping and go out for dinner after, how does that sound?”

“It sounds great,” you say truthfully. You’re balls deep into this domesticity routine by now, why the fuck not? At least when you inevitably have to leave, you won’t just be breaking his heart, you’ll be breaking your own as well. It’s what you’ll deserve.

“Then it’s a date,” he declares and leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before he slides off his chair and leaves the kitchen with a wink thrown your way before you can fully react.

You’re left to be embarrassed and conflicted on your own by the kitchen table.

 

* * *

 

When Jake said to stock up, he meant it. Normally he’s fine with buying canned and ready-made food and some ingredients for meals that are easy to make, but now he actually buys fresh produce and even baking supplies. It has you perplexed until he catches your expression.

“Jane likes to bake,” he tells you.

Maybe it’s his attempt at a peace offering. You’re not so sure it will work, but who knows. Perhaps Jane, shrewd as she comes across, _is_ won over by having a kitchen stocked with baking supplies availed to her.

You’ll find out soon enough, you suppose.

You get the groceries done early so Jake drives you back to unload them and have Halley’s afternoon walk. You stay behind in the house to put the groceries away and get ready for the date.

You’re weirdly nervous about it in a way you’ve never been before. Could be that it’s because you’re only used to temporary hook-ups and every date you’ve gone on before was simply an obvious lead-up to sex, something to draw the tension out with before getting to the point.

What’s going on with Jake is decidedly different from that and being left in unfamiliar territory has you uncertain in a lot of ways. You don’t know what he’s expecting out of this and you’d rather not push and take advantage of the person you’re staying with and, admittedly, might totally have a case of the feelings for.

You’ll just have to leave it up to him and his whimsical ways to find out, hard as that is when you’d rather have some control over the situation. But at least you trust him enough to go along, he’s earned that much.

You really don’t have much in the way of clothing and for the first time you find yourself frustrated about it. All you can do is change your shirt for your other one which you think is a little bit nicer and make sure your hair is still looking on point. Your only solace is that you can’t agonise for hours over what to wear when your options are so extremely limited.

Instead you go and wait in the living room for Jake to return, feeling jittery. Your nerves are amplified by the fact that Roxy’s spell has been noticeably fading. The Call has gradually been growing stronger, a restlessness creeping in under your skin. If it weren’t too cold for it, you’d be sorely tempted to take a dip into the ocean if only to work off some of the pent up energy.

You’ll have to find some other way to work it off. Perhaps tonight will offer something to help.

When Jake gets back, you can tell he’s also filled with a nervous energy. You’re both silent as you get into his car. Knowing that it’s a date and you’re both on the same page about it, the atmosphere is decidedly different. The knowledge hangs in the air like static.

The silence is made a lot less uncomfortable by the shy grins filled with muted excitement he keeps shooting you and it vanishes entirely when he turns the radio on and ends up singing along. You refuse to join in despite his needling to do so, but you’re glad for how it breaks the tension.

It doesn’t lessen the anticipation one bit though. You have no idea where he’s planning on taking you and you don’t ask.

To your delight, it turns out to be a seafood restaurant. It’s quite a bit fancier than your first ‘date’ and the place alone makes it obvious that this is indeed a date and no mistake about it. It gets even better when he tells you to pick whatever you want on the menu and not mind the prize. You’re pretty jazzed about that and you don’t hesitate taking advantage of it after all the simple meals you’ve been having. You’re sure he’s good for it where money is concerned.

You end up sharing a plateau de fruits de mer with him and it feels pretty damn great to be eating what you deem normally again for the first time in what feels like ages. You doubt it makes any difference to the Call, but you feel more at ease anyway.

You wouldn’t say relaxed because it’s hard to be when Jake keeps throwing you overtly flirtatious looks in between casual conversation. There’s a lot of “accidental” hand brushing and knee bumping, too. More so than usual. It amps up the tension between you, leaving you hopeful about where this evening might be going.

You spend a considerable amount of time at the restaurant, enjoying the food and working each other up in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. Still, when you leave it feels too early to go home yet, but Jake has nothing else planned for the night. That’s where you take the reins.

For all the teasing touches, you don’t want to assume that Jake intends to drag you off to his bed as soon as you get home and you need to move and do something about the restlessness coiled tight inside of you.

You know just the thing to help you while also extending this date.

You take him to a club that you like. The moment he steps foot inside, it’s obvious this is not his scene at all. Despite that, he seems willing enough to indulge you and you’re glad for it. Although you’re usually in these places to find companionship for the night, you enjoy the ambiance and more than that: the music. Nothing beats a good rhythm to lose yourself into.

You get some drinks and settle by the bar to let him get used to the noise and the people for a while. Even with some alcohol in him, he doesn’t seem too keen to get on the dance floor.

At least not until you’ve assured him that it’s fine and go to dance by yourself for a bit. It only takes maintaining eye contact with him and some provocative moves before he’s sufficiently enticed enough to join you.

He dances awkward and stilted at first, but under your guiding hands, it takes no time at all before you have him moving in sync with the beat. That’s where the fun starts. You don’t hesitate losing yourself to the music, the hands on your hips, and the warm press of his body against yours.

It’s a relief to be moving like this, the sway of bodies on the dance floor not unlike the rolling waves of the sea, pushing and pulling. Or rather, it’s a relief until the both of you get a little too into it and then it turns into sweet torment.

At some point you find yourselves all but tangled up in each other, hips grinding together in time to the beat, fingers gripping tight and sweat-slick foreheads pressed together as you breathe in each other’s oxygen.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

You don’t know how long you can stand it before you’ll have to settle for dragging him off to a dark corner of the club and throwing absolutely all caution out the window.

Lucky for you he seems to be thinking similar thoughts.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs into your ear with a husky voice.

You don’t need to be told twice.

The drive back is torture, made all the worse for how Jake keeps reaching over to touch you; fingers digging into your knee or skirting up and down your thigh without even sparing you a glance. You don’t think you’ve ever been so sexually frustrated before in your life nor have you had such a tenuous grip on your self-control. More than once you contemplate either demanding or begging he pull over so you can go down on him right then and there, you’re that desperate.

By some miracle you manage to retain your dignity and keep your mouth shut, probably helped by the fact that you got Jake to stop with the teasing touches after catching his hand and bringing it up to your lips, taking two of his fingers in your mouth and slowly dragging your lips off them again. He gets the hint then and although he nearly went swerving off the road, it’s totally worth it for how tomato red he’s gone. Absolutely adorable.

But when you get home, all bets are off.

The moment you’re both inside, your patience has worn out and you’re on him, pressing him back against the door he barely has time to close. The urge to kiss Jake is a fever burning through you and you need relief _stat_. Poor Halley’s greetings go ignored as you kiss him for all you’re worth, pouring every bit of your desperation you’ve felt since you’ve met him into it as you plaster your body against his as if your life depends on covering every inch of him.

He makes a startled noise in the back of his throat at your unceremonious shove and you don’t buy it for one second that he didn’t see this coming, devilish tease that he is. He’s quick to respond in kind and the fingers immediately curling into your shirt tell you all you need to know about his own desperation for this.

You resist when he starts pushing you back, though not for long because he keeps moving with you, contact between your bodies never fully broken. Halley is given a few fumbling pats on the head, Jake murmuring “later” to him as he urges you back and you comply with stumbling backward steps.

Somehow you end up upstairs. You have no idea how the two of you have managed it when you can’t keep your hands and mouths off each other for even a single second, but you’re there and being herded into his bedroom.

All you can think is _fucking finally_.

You both tumble into his bed, the breath knocked out off you by his weight bearing down on you. You’re hardly given the chance to catch it when he kisses you hard and all you can do is let out a whine and paw at him, fingers itching to get under his shirt and feel his bare skin.

Dignity and grace are forgotten concepts when he rolls his hips and provides delicious friction. You’re achingly hard in your jeans and you don’t have the presence of mind to do anything other than grind back up against him, encouraged by the moans spilling from his lips. The kisses turn sloppy as you rut against each other like animals, still fully clothed save for the shoes you’ve left abandoned somewhere in the hallway on your way here.

It’s the culmination of the desperation that’s been building for nearly two weeks now and as much as you’d like to slow down, get clothes out of the way, and enjoy this more leisurely, you _can’t_. You’re nothing but a writhing ball of need and Jake is relentless.

He at least has the wherewithal to try and do something about the clothes situation. You’re so worked up that his unsteady hands fumbling with the button of your jeans is almost enough to set you off, just the mere thought of his hand on you ( _finally_ ) bringing you near the edge. You only just keep from spilling embarrassingly early and still your hips with great effort so he can actually get somewhere with his fumbling.

Your jeans and underwear are roughly shoved down only enough to expose you as he lavishes you with wet, open-mouthed kisses all along your throat that leave you panting. It’s both a relief and a loss all at once when he gives you reprieve to lean back and work on his own pants.

You don’t want to look down and see how far gone you are already. You can feel that plenty, how painfully hard you are and how your head is slick with precum. However, you do want to see _him_ and so there’s no choice but to glance down as he pulls himself free from his boxers. The sight of his cock has you groaning loudly, making him glance up and meet your eyes with a a hungry gaze that devours you whole.

He discards his glasses to the side and then he’s upon you again, finally giving heed to your tugging fingers in his shirt. Your throat closes on a gasp of his name when the next roll of his hips has your cocks sliding together and you instinctively buck up for more. He’s groaning into your ear and the very sound seems to vibrate through you, adding to the building pleasure.

He only grinds down a few more times before he shifts the hands firmly gripping your hips and egging on your desperate movements and lifts himself up. Your noise of protest is cut short when his hand slips between you and takes hold of you. Your thoughts short-circuit and you’re practically keening, arching your back and into his hand.

You hear him curse under his breath as he gives you a few light strokes that offer more teasing than relief. Before that can get too excruciating, he adjusts position and lines up your dicks before wrapping his hand around them both. You dig your nails into his back and moan, for once not caring how loud and vocal you’re being.

It’s pure bliss when he starts moving again, fucking into his fist and against you. The Call has nothing on the roar of blood rushing through your veins, his touch setting your nerves alight and drowning out all other sensations but for the warmth and pleasure he gives you.

The stutter of your hips, an attempt to push up and seek even more friction, turns the whole thing into a bit of an uncoordinated mess before you decide to just let him have his way with you and let his weight pin you down.

As soon as you do, he’s resting his forehead against yours and his eyes bore into you. The soft look you find in them is at odds with the frantic motions of his hips and the vice-like grip he has on you and you have to squeeze your eyes shut when you find it too overwhelming.

Doing so is a mistake because Jake apparently takes it as his cue to start talking. It takes a good moment for the words to sink in and start making sense, but you catch on that he’s muttering praise and compliments. His voice is a rough, stammering mess and coupled with how he’s calling you everything from ‘lovely’ and ‘gorgeous’ to ‘absolutely amazing’, you’re only further overwhelmed.

“ _Jake_ ,” you plead without knowing what you’re pleading for. Mercy from the onslaught of positivity he’s throwing at you and you don’t know how to deal with, perhaps.

He doesn’t give you it and when you decide to silence him with a kiss, it’s already too late. You’ve been aware of the building heat in your gut the entire time, a crescendo of pleasure, and yet you’re caught off guard when it reaches a peak and you come with a muted cry against his lips. Your hips stutter hard, straining against his weight and throwing off his rhythm.

He shushes you gently, kissing and stroking you through your orgasm while you hold on for dear life. No doubt there’s going to be bruises in the shape of your fingerprints on his back with how hard you’re clutching him, but you can’t think at all with the white hot pleasure consuming you, much less pay it any mind. You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore either, but the steady cadence of his voice is something to latch on to as you ride the high and come back down again.

When the tremors stop wracking your body, you notice he’s mostly stopped moving save for tiny jerks of his hips he can’t seem to help. He’s watching you intently through heavy-lidded eyes and you can feel him squeezing himself and you by virtue of the fact he still has his hand wrapped around you both.

You groan and let your hands slip from where you’d been marking up the canvas of his back, moving down to grip his ass firmly and urge him to move more again. He catches the hint real quick and if you hadn’t finished already, you think the wild grin he gives you would have done you in for sure.

He buries his face in your neck as he picks up the pace again, relentlessly chasing his pleasure. You allow him to use your body to do so, ushering him on with encouraging hands even if the sensations are becoming too much to bear, turning you into an overstimulated mess. He doesn’t take long to come, fortunately.

Feeling him jerk and spill all over you has to be the hottest thing ever.

“Fuck, Jake,” you say empathetically in a hoarse whisper.

He makes a muffled noise of agreement against your throat before he collapses. Taking his full weight makes it a little harder to breathe, but you don’t have it in you to move or get him to do so. You both lie there in a tangle of limbs, panting.

You think it might be a good few minutes of just trying to breathe normally again before he stirs.

“I think we might have gotten a little carried away there,” he says once he’s sufficiently caught his breath, lifting his head to look at you. His face is flushed and his hair slightly mussed. You can only imagine what you must look like right now.

“You think?” You snort.

He chuckles and has the audacity to do something as adorable as kiss the tip of your nose. It delivers a pang to your heart that you’re too blissed out to consider at the moment.

With the lustful urgency out of the way, discomfort is quickly starting to make itself known. You’re both still clothed and it doesn’t help with how uncomfortably warm you’re getting, trapped under him as you are. There’s a sticky mess between that you become too aware of as he shifts.

Yet you still shiver at the loss when he moves off you. You don’t let him get far, keeping hold of him with an arm slung around his waist and rolling onto your side to face him. You lean in and kiss him just because you can and he lets you, feeling the curve of his smile against your lips.

“That was good though,” he mumbles when you pull back.

“Yeah,” you agree wholeheartedly.

It was more than good, actually. For something that came down to some simple frottage, it was pretty mind blowing. Maybe because it’s taken you weeks (or well, almost two weeks) to get to this point or it could be more about who you’re with, either way it’s the best bit of frotting you’ve ever had for sure.

You show your appreciation by drawing him in for some more lazy kisses, basking in the afterglow for a little longer.

The need to do something about the messy state you’re both in becomes too much eventually and you both reluctantly sit up. You see him squinting hard at something over your shoulder and you turn your head enough to see that he’s staring at his alarm clock.

“Ah, cripes, Halley,” he sighs.

Oh, right. The poor dog hasn’t had his evening walk yet, you’ve been out for the better part of the evening and then this happened.

“I’ll go,” you say and you shut him up with another quick press of lips before he can protest. “Then you can go shower first,”

“What, so you can hog it to your heart’s content after?” He’s eyeing you with a mix of suspicion and amusement, clearly onto you.

“Damn right,” you admit. You’d feel more guilty about your tendency to take long showers if he actually minded and you didn’t know he could afford it.

“Alright, fine. But… um, come back here after.” The way hesitance sneaks into his tone makes it come across more as a question than the demand he might have meant it as.

“Sure,” you tell him and you steal one last kiss before sliding off the bed.

You take off your ruined shirt, using it to clean the drying mess off your skin, before pointedly pilfering his closet for a clean shirt to borrow much to his amusement. You have to leave when he starts stripping for fear that you’ll lose all willpower to actually do so.

You collect your shoes in the hallway and take Jake’s with you to put away as you go downstairs. You find Halley curled up and waiting in front of the door, making a silent but clear statement. You mumble an apology to him as you get ready to head out.

Stepping outside, you’re greeted by cold winds that have you immediately longing for Jake’s bed and warm body again even if breathing in the salt air helps you feel more settled. You saunter after Halley as he tears down the beach, feeling content and drowsy after everything that just happened. You really can’t wait to shower and laze around.

You’re distracted from your basking when your coat pocket buzzes. You fish out your phone to find that you’ve missed some texts from Roxy and the latest one is from Jake. It’s a simple winking kissy face and it’s dorky as shit, but you still find yourself smiling.

Glancing at Roxy’s texts brings you a reminder that she’ll be back soon and your mood takes a dip as you’re suddenly confronted by a rush of conflicted feelings. A part of you is glad because you get to see your friend again and you feel her spell waning; it won’t be long until being on land will be torture again. Another part of you dreads it and not just because you’ll have to come clean and disappoint Roxy. You want more time with Jake.

Especially in light of recent developments. You want more of that and also just… _more_ in general. You might actually be wanting a genuine relationship with him and although you’ve wistfully thought about wanting such a thing with someone before, they were just whimsical fancies. It had never felt like an actual option before and now, with Jake, it feels more concrete and like a real thing you could have.

You find yourself entertaining impossible thoughts as you walk, glancing up to keep an eye on Halley every now and then. What if you told him what you are? Would he even believe you without your skin there to prove it? Jake has a certain naivety to him, but even he must have his limit, right? Although you could always use Roxy to help prove your case that magic is real if she’s amenable to it.

Which she very well might not be after you essentially lied to her by omission.

God, you’ve made a mess of things there and you shouldn’t even be thinking about this. You belong to the sea, you always have.

You keep the walk a relatively brisk and short one, only enough to tucker Halley out a bit, before you start heading back with a heavy, confused heart. In typical you fashion, you’ve managed to ruin your good post-orgasm mood by overthinking things.

You’re put off enough that you can’t even really relax and enjoy your shower. It ends up being a brief one by your standards after which you entertain the notion of just going downstairs and sleeping on the couch again. You know you can’t because Jake asked you to come back to his room and you agreed. You’re not going to go back on your word and let him down.

(Not yet.)

You’re not sure if he’s expecting you to come back dressed or not, so you settle for putting on your boxer briefs and his T-shirt and completing your nightly ritual before forcing yourself to step back into his room.

He’s seated on the bed, bare-chested, his hair still damp, and with his laptop in his lap, playing something. He pauses it the moment you set foot inside, giving you a shy smile that’s contrary to the grabby motion he makes at you after lifting his hand. There’s a pang in your heart and you’re moving without even thinking about it.

You don’t think you could ever deny him anything. If he asked you to stay, you would and you’d do it even if you had to endure the Call the whole time.

You’re in love with him.

It’s a terrifying thing to admit to yourself and yet you forget to feel scared as you slip under the covers and he immediately pulls you to his side, delight at seeing you again painted clear as day on his face. How the fuck you fell so hard in a matter of days isn’t hard to guess then.

“Howdy,” he grins as you nestle against his side, finding out that he’s at least wearing his boxers under the covers.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice a touch too hoarse for comfort so you clear your throat and try again for a more casual tone. “What are you watching?”

“My favourite!”

You already know what it is even before you cast a glance at the screen, but you look anyway in some insane hope that it will be something different. It isn’t.

“So Avatar again,” you groan, burying your face in his neck for dramatic effect and because it’s nice. You can feel the vibration of his laugh through your lips when you press them against his throat.

“Naturally,” he says cheerfully though you don’t miss the slight hitch in his breathing when your lips brush over his pulse point.

Maybe you do have to wonder why you fell in love with him, his indiscriminate taste in movies can be downright awful. Or perhaps it says more about you and your taste in men than it does about him.

Whatever the case, it’s hard to care when he has his arm slung around you and he rests his cheek against your hair.

“Want me to turn it off?” He asks quietly.

You think about it for a second. You’re perfectly comfortable where you are right now and it’s not like you have to pay attention to the screen, you have plenty of skin made available to you to distract yourself with. Why deny Jake his favourite movie when you can easily endure it?

“Nah, it’s fine,” you reply.

He kisses the top of your head, the easy affection making your heart miss a beat, and presses play again. You do your best to shove your inner conflict aside and enjoy the moment, making yourself comfortable by more or less draping yourself across his side. You keep your head resting on his shoulder, an arm around his waist where you can idly stroke his side and stomach, and you hook your leg around his. You basically do your best barnacle impression.

You hope it’s not too clingy or presumptuous, but seeing as how he rests his head against yours again and he keeps his arm around you, you think you’re fine. Save for your idle hand, you stay still for a while, breathing in his scent and soaking up his warmth, until you grow bored of watching the movie (again) and you distract yourself.

In doing so, you also distract him when you start mouthing at his neck and collarbone. He tries to ignore it at first, but when you begin idly playing with the band of his boxers, you get him squirming and he no longer can. There’s fake indignant protests and half-hearted swatting and you get called an “awful siren seductor” which really only encourages you to vie for his attention more.

You succeed in doing so pretty quickly, leading to a very nice, lazy make-out session. It doesn’t really go anywhere, the both of you are too tired, but you could get an endorphin high off his kisses alone.

When the almost rhythmic movements of your mouths against each other slows and your eyes become hard to open again you decide to call it a night. He shuts his laptop, unable to finish the unnecessarily long movie, and you feel triumphant at getting him to miss a large portion of it even as he complains about it.

He turns off the bedside lamp and you both settle down, facing each other. In the dark, his green eyes seem all the more vivid to you.

“I’m so very glad I met you,” he says softly, quiet like a secret confession.

“Me too,” you admit with bleeding sincerity.

Your heart already feels close to bursting and you can’t take the gentle smile he gives you, so you snuggle closer as an excuse to hide your face against him. You fall asleep like that, tucked close and held.

You sleep better than you have in forever.


	5. between the winds, between the waves

The next day starts out more hectic than you would like. When you wake it’s to hands under your shirt, an intrepid mouth on your neck, green eyes, and a mischievous smile. It’s a wonderful way to be woken up and you’re completely on board for the sleepy morning make-out that ensues. It’s when the drowsy groping turns more intent that you’re interrupted by Jake’s cell phone going off from where it’s been abandoned on the floor in his pocket.

It turns out to be Jane, calling to say that she’s feeling much better and would like to come over sooner. Apparently Jake can’t say no to her.

It vexes you a fair amount that, now that you finally get to be intimate with him, you no longer have a monopoly on his time. It figures. You blame yourself more than you do Jane. Although you still feel bad about feeling that way. It’s far too selfish.

It’s a little assuaged by the fact that Jake doesn’t seem too pleased about it either and you consider the blow lessened when he kisses you sweetly and calls you his paramour before getting out of bed. At least things aren’t awkward after your desperation and hormone-fueled romp. That’s good. You couldn’t ask for more than that.

Even though you very much want more.

You figure you’ll at least have him for yourself when night comes around and it’s with that consolation that you fall back into the morning routine you’ve gotten used to.

Not a whole lot changes between you and Jake as you go through the usual motions of starting the day and it’s somewhat of a comfort. The only things that change is how he looks at you and how his touches are more overt and linger a little longer. It also makes you less hesitant to initiate touches of your own, finally knowing where you stand with him helps tremendously. As such, you make sure you get in at least one very good, lasting smooch out of him before Jane arrives.

You don’t know where he stands on letting his cousin know about his relationships and seeing how new this budding romance between you is, you decide to play it safe and just follow his lead where that is concerned. You’ll see whether or not he’ll talk about it or if he’ll keep being openly affectionate with you. You kind of doubt it, but Jake can be unpredictable.

He turns out to be predictable the moment Jane arrives.

He goes back to holding himself more at bay around you and you do the same, more than used to restraining yourself around him. It’s not like he gives you the cold shoulder entirely anyway. He throws you longing looks whenever Jane isn’t looking and touches your fingers like he’s having as hard a time as you keeping his hands off. It builds anticipation again.

You figure you should at least give the cousins some time alone what with the unresolved strain hanging over every interaction between them, but every time you try to find an out and excuse yourself to let them have some privacy, Jake is there to reel you back in. No matter how subtle and sneaky, he manages to do it. You know damn well what he’s doing: avoiding being alone with her and delaying the serious talk he inevitably needs to have with her.

You don’t call him out on it though. Maybe you should, but your inability to deny him is an established fact by now. It doesn’t help that you want to be around him as much as possible so you don’t put up much of a fight when he shoots down your attempts to get away.

It’s how you get roped into a baking session.

You’re kind of a disaster at it despite Jane’s excellent and patient guidance and you’re quick to delegate yourself to the role of taste-tester, letting Jake take over your baking duties. You think Jane is still suspicious of you although she doesn’t outwardly show it in any way. Whatever her reservations, she treats you warmly. If she’s caught on to what Jake is doing by keeping you around, she doesn’t make it known.

Admittedly it’s rather fun and you get an excellent shot of Jake in an apron with flour on his face that you send to Roxy. Her near-instant reply focuses on something else entirely though.

**omg whos SHE???**

Jane is partly in the shot. You can’t quite keep your snort of amusement suppressed and it makes Jake look up at you as you’re typing back a quick explanation.

“What are you doing?” He asks with an adorable tilt of his head.

“I’m texting the friend I told you about, Roxy.”

“You know, you never showed me her.” His tone is thoughtful, but you know damn well what he’s fishing for.

“Hold on,” you say dutifully.

Roxy’s all too happy to send you a selfie when you ask for one — it’s a ridiculous picture with her striking a cutesy pose and making a duck face, somehow making it work — and you hold out your phone to show it off.

“What a pretty dame,” Jake says.

“She’s very pretty indeed,” Jane agrees, having leaned in to look as well.

You tell Roxy they both called her pretty to her utter delight. Before you can respond to her, Jake herds you all together behind the counter and steals your phone. You end up squished between an English-Crocker sandwich as he holds the phone aloft and takes a picture of you three. You’re pretty sure you look ridiculous, but before you can even confirm that, Jake has already send the picture to both himself _and_ to Roxy.

When you’re handed back your phone, it’s to Roxy calling you all a gaggle of hot babes. At her insistence you relay the compliment. Jake just laughs in response and it’s a stark contrast to Jane’s more bashful reaction.

“O-oh, that’s very of sweet of her to say!” She stammers, blushing, though her smile looks pleased.

You find yourself oddly wishing that Roxy and Callie were here. You think they would all get along really well. You’re almost tempted to tell Roxy as much. Instead you tell her to give Callie your best. You’re treated to another picture, this time of her and Callie, cheek-to-cheek (with Calliope looking perfectly human, no doubt thanks to Roxy’s magical talents) and waving to the camera. It makes you smile before you turn your attention back to the sight of Jane smacking Jake’s hand with a spoon when he tries to stick his finger in the cake batter.

There’s a rise of emotions that you can’t quite name or make sense of. You think this is what having a family must be like. It’s the sort of thing you’ve only ever gotten an idea of through media portrayals and never experienced yourself. Sitting there by the kitchen table, watching Jake and Jane bicker harmlessly while your phone buzzes gently with messages in your hand, you get the sense that this might be your first real taste.

You’ve always considered it far beyond your reach and never bothered longing for it. Or so you thought. Now that you’re experiencing it, you find out you’ve been wanting this more badly than you’ve ever even realised all along.

It hurts, the reminder of how achingly lonely you’ve truly been all your life, and you hide behind your cup of coffee (Jane makes a really mean cup) as you work on shoving the emotions down as best as you can.

It’s Jane who takes note that something’s up despite your best efforts to pretend otherwise while Jake remains oblivious to your internal maybe-sort-of-breakdown. It shouldn’t surprise you, she’s far too sharp for her own good. She comes to sit next to you after directing Jake to put their creations in the oven and although she doesn’t say anything, she’s looking at you inquisitively.

You struggle for what to say that doesn’t betray too much, yet also doesn’t invite any questions.

“It must be nice having family,” you say quietly, settling on that statement.

It speaks volumes to her and her expression softens. You look away for fear that you’ll find pity in her eyes and you really don’t want that.

“It can be,” she replies, matching your tone, and pats the back of your hand. The gesture is enough to make you glance back and her gentle smile and warm eyes might be worse than pity would be for how it twists your heart. Despite that, it also helps, her soft fingers tapping against your hand are unfairly soothing.

She pulls her hand back and pretends nothing is wrong when Jake joins the both of you, breaking the quiet moment you were having by being his usual boisterous, oblivious self. You love her for it, glad for the discretion, and let yourself get swept up in conversation and for the ache to fade to the back of your mind.

Ultimately you find you don’t mind Jane’s presence at all despite your reluctance at the thought of added company that morning.

It’s a fun day and she makes an incredible dinner for you all that evening. It’s no inconvenience when she lingers throughout the evening and you end up crowded on the couch, watching Sherlock Holmes movies and eating baked goods.

The downside is that, when she does finally leave, both you and Jake are too tuckered out to do much of anything, unused to such constant socializing as you both are. Even though Jake tugs you into his bedroom when you emerge after your shower, all you end up doing is cuddling.

To be fair, it’s some damn fantastic cuddling so you can’t really bring yourself to be disappointed about it.

 

* * *

 

The days that follow are much the same.

Either Jane comes over or you’re dragged along by Jake to meet her in town where he’s eager to show her all the sights. It’s not so bad when you genuinely come to like Jane, but you’re painfully aware of the days slipping by and how after each, you’re both too tired for anything more than getting a little handsy. Those moments are excellent for sure. It’s just that you’re craving more, greedy as you are.

Before you know it, it’s the fourth day of Jane’s stay in Scotland and it happens to be the day that Roxy returns. You tried delaying going to see her the night before, claiming that she would need time to unpack and get settled, but she was having none of it when her spell is practically gone by this point and you’re not returning to the sea. (Because you can’t, not that she knows that yet.)

You can’t argue with her, you’ve been more and more restless and feeling ill-fitted in your own skin. It’s turning you more taciturn and you can’t keep inflicting yourself like that on Jake and Jane. You don’t have a choice in the matter.

Jake isn’t too pleased that you won’t be around to play as a buffer and distraction between him and Jane. Not that he actually says so. You can tell plenty from the hint of panic in his eyes when you tell him you’ll be going to see a returned Roxy the next day. You tell yourself it will be good for him to finally have a heart-to-heart with Jane though it does nothing to assuage the dread at having to do the same with Roxy.

You also don’t know what you’re going to do if she helps you find your skin.

Your worries have you sleeping fitfully even with Jake’s warm body next to you — your spot in his bed having become the new norm — but there’s one upside to it: you’re up early. You take advantage of that fact to do something you’ve been itching to do for ages.

You slip under the covers and give Jake the best wake-up you possibly can, putting your well-earned blowjob skills to good use and getting him to scream your name for you. It’s the best distraction from the dread and anxiety that’s been building inside you and you forget about it entirely for the duration that you have Jake squirming under your mouth and desperately clutching your hair.

By the time he comes spilling hot down your throat, you’re so worked up that it only takes a few strokes of his hand before you’re undone. After, you both bask in the afterglow and doze the early hours of the morning away until your phone pings with a message that Roxy’s arrived home.

It’s with extreme reluctance that you extract yourself from Jake’s bed to get cleaned up and dressed. He doesn’t make it easy for you, drawing you back in with deep kisses that leave you breathless and wanting. As much as you want to, you don’t give in and manage to get away for a quick shower.

He’s still lazing around in bed when you’re done and fully clothed and against your better judgement, you dip back into the room to kiss him goodbye. He steals a few more minutes of your time that way and you get your payback by leaving him with a big hickey on his collarbone.

You don’t bother with breakfast, your dread and guilt leaving you far too queasy. With the added anxiety you don’t think you could get anything (else) down your throat with how dry it feels anyway. After giving Halley a quick pat, you’re out the door and you do your best not to feel some sense of finality about it all.

All you can think of is Jake as you start your trek to Roxy’s house. You leave at least knowing what it’s like to have the weight of him in your mouth, what he tastes like, and what he sounds like crying out your name, voice cracking with pleasure. No matter what happens, that’s a memory that will keep you warm for a good while.

It takes ages and no time at all to reach Roxy’s porch. When you do, you feel ill and you can’t tell if it’s because you’ve been feeling the ocean tug at you during your walk or the cocktail of nervous energy brewing inside you. At this point you’ve slipped into numb resignation, but maybe your body disagrees with that.

You don’t waffle this time. You raise your hand and knock on the door without sparing it any conscious thought.

It’s Calliope who opens the door in all her green, scaly glory, the glamour spell obviously having faded and leaving her in her shifted form that’s humanoid-shaped, but very obviously not human.

“Hello, love,” she greets you warmly, beckoning you inside. “Do come in.”

“Hey,” you reply, mustering a half-smile for her.

You’re not as close as you could be with Calliope and you think about that as you step inside, giving you something else to feel guilty about. Being the last of your species is a thing you both have in common. Although you don’t know for a hundred percent sure that you are, you know for a fact that she is after some nasty business with her brother that you’re not privy to and never pried into.

In fact, you don’t know a whole lot about her other than whatever Roxy’s shared. All you really know is how much they adore each other. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit envious of what they have and how they make it work. Maybe that’s part of the reason you never let yourself bond with Calliope that much.

Maybe you should change that. She knows what it’s like to be the last of a kind and although you’ve never spoken about it because that comes to close to talking about the loneliness and assorted feelings that entails, possibly you could commiserate with her. If you manage to get your skin back, perhaps you could even have a swim with her. See how a seal will fare against a giant sea serpent in terms of swimming power and speed.

It’s a nice thought.

“Roxy’s in the living room,” she directs you. “Go on then, I’ll fetch us all some tea.”

You’re loathe to leave her side, knowing what will come next, but you do it and drag your sorry ass to the living room where you find Roxy sprawled over the couch, one arm dramatically slung across her eyes. She lets out a pitiful groan when she hears your approaching footsteps.

“Rough flight?” You venture.

“Ugh,” she says empathetically. “Don’t you know it.”

You take a seat on the other couch opposite hers and she lifts her arm to peek at you, sullen expression transforming into a smile.

“Feeling better already for seeing your handsome face again though.”

She might as well have slapped you across the face with that statement. Actually, a slap would have been kinder than the gut punch of guilt you experience. You can plainly see the bags under her eyes, how tired she must be, and you’re about to make matters worse for her with your stupid bullshit.

“Good to see you again too,” you say, keeping your tone neutral.

She sits up, seemingly forgetting all about her exhaustion as she beams eagerly at you.

“So, you been having a good time with your beau and his cute cousin, huh?”

God, you can’t do this. You can’t dance around the subject and keep pretending everything’s kosher. You’ve got to come clean now.

“Rox—” You start and promptly cut yourself off as Calliope comes wandering back into the room with a tray. You snap your mouth shut as she sets it down on the little table between the couches, pouring you a cup and you stiffly nod your thanks.

The seconds are drawn out excruciatingly as Callie pours herself and Roxy some tea too before settling on the couch next to her girlfriend. It’s only now that you notice her green skin looking a little palid. The flight mustn’t have been kind on her either.

“Thanks, babe,” Roxy says, delivering a kiss to her cheek with an exaggerated smack that has Callie blushing and giggling before she turns her attention to you. “What were you saying?”

Your throat suddenly feels too tight, choking you and leaving you unable to pick up where you left off. Something on your face must betray you because Roxy’s expression falls and her brows furrow in worry.

“Dirk, what is it?” She asks urgently.

You take a deep breath to ease the knot in your throat enough so you can speak.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

 

* * *

 

It goes about as well as expected.

You don’t think she’s furious with you even though she has every right to be. She’s clearly upset though. You suspect it’s for far worse reasons than being angry: she’s disappointed in you. It’s kind of hard to really tell because after some initial shock, she’s gone very quiet.

A quiet Roxy is one to fear.

She lets you finish your story which, without any interruption, more or less turns into rambling mess. When you’re done, she stands up abruptly, making you flinch back. There’s a stormy look on her face and that’s about all you can make out before she stomps off without a word.

“Roxy—” you call after her, confused and desperate. You start rising out of your seat and only get there halfway when you catch motion from the corner of your eye. Looking over, you see Calliope is shaking her head ‘no’ at you.

You sink back down, lost and defeated.

From the glance you snuck at her, Callie doesn’t seem to be angry with you. Or if she’s mad that you upset her girlfriend, which would be very much justified, her expression doesn’t show it. All the same, you bury your face in your hands, muttering a pitiful apology. You wish the earth would swallow you up so you can begin your descend into hell where you belong.

You hear Callie get up and you figure she’ll go after Roxy and you’ll be left to wallow in your fuck-up on your own.

Instead you feel the couch dip as she drops her weight next to you.

“Oh darling, I can’t imagine how hard losing your skin must be for you.”

You’re surprised enough to glance up at her. Her face is nothing but complete sympathy and concern.

“You’re not mad?” You blurt out, unable to understand her kindness after the stunt you just pulled.

“Don’t be silly, why ever would I be mad at you?”

In lieu of answering, you turn your head and spare a glance in the direction Roxy stormed off in.

Callie merely smiles when you look back round.

“Don’t worry about her,” she says with utter confidence.

You don’t know what to say so you nod, dropping your hands into your lap and staring at them.

Callie sidles closer then and to your faint surprise, she reaches over and takes one of your hands in hers. She’s never been touchy with you, always mindful of the distance you keep and possibly understanding of why you kept it. You’re treated to the feel of her scaly skin as she laces her fingers through yours, her claws gentle pinpricks of pressure against the back of your hand. It’s an odd sensation, but not unpleasant.

“I should have said something sooner,” you continue your streak of blurting shit out in a desperate bid for… something.

“You should have,” she says, not unkindly. “But I understand why you didn’t.”

You chance another glance at her and find that she’s still smiling. It grows a touch wry when she catches the silent question in your eyes.

“Things aren’t always so simple for creatures like you and I.”

Not knowing what else to say, you nod and she carefully squeezes your hand before releasing it to grab your cup of tea and nudge it into your hands.

“Drink this, darling. It will help,” she insists gently. “Don’t you fret about Roxy, she’ll be back in a moment.”

It’s hard not to worry about how badly you must have let down your best friend, but you manage to comply to the rest easily enough. At least cradling the warm cup of tea in your hands provides some comfort. As does Calliope’s non-judgemental presence by your side.

You don’t know how much time passes, only that it’s enough that you’ve downed your cup and declined Callie’s offer for a second, until you hear the sound of feet approaching at a brisk pace. You’re not sure why, but you jump up to your feet before you know it with a surge of anxiety. Callie doesn’t stop you this time and you take a few steps around the couch to meet Roxy part of the way.

She comes in very much the same fashion as she left it: storming and with a cloudy, unreadable expression on her face.

The only difference now is that she’s clutching something in her hand. You can just barely make out a hint of crumpled paper before you get distracted by the fact that she’s advancing on you. Fast.

“Roxy, I’m—” you start, bracing yourself when she doesn’t stop for what little good it does you as she reaches you.

You don’t know what to expect. It’s not like she would ever hit you or do anything to intentionally hurt you in such a way, that’s just not like her. Barbed words and magic are her weapons of choice.

You’re still caught off guard when she flings herself at you, her arms thrown over your shoulders. Your intended “sorry” gets cut off when the air is knocked right out of you and you’re almost toppled over in your surprise.

“You stupid idiot!” She hisses in your ear. It would be one thing if she sounded angry or if there was any venom in her tone at all. Instead her voice is tight as if she’s on the verge of tears and it’s like a dagger piercing your heart.

“You’re the absolute worst,” she goes on.

“I know,” you manage.

“You’re not supposed to agree!” She thumps the back of your shoulder half-heartedly.

Confused, you don’t know what else to do other than lift your arms from where they’re uselessly dangling by your side and tentatively return the embrace. She briefly tightens her hold and squeezes you uncomfortably tight before pulling back. Her arms slide from around your shoulders so she can grab hold of your face with her free hand and you’re forced to meet her gaze. Her eyes are a little shiny, but she looks determined.

“We’re going to fix this, alright?”

You nod guiltily as much as you can with her fingers firmly clutching your chin.

“And after, you and I are going to have ourselves a little talk about the importance of honest _communication_.” She narrows her eyes at you pointedly and you wouldn’t dream of arguing back. Even if she weren’t a witch, you’re pretty sure she’d still manage to be terrifying if she wanted to be. Roxy is a force to be reckoned with, magical powers or not.

“Yes, ma’am,” you agree meekly.

“Attaboy,” she says as she lets go with a pat to your cheek. You feel successfully chided even though she’s barely said anything that could be considered chiding.

She promptly moves around you to move to the couch where she spreads out the crumpled papers on the coffee table. You hesitantly move closer to get a closer look and quickly find out that the papers are pieces of a map. As she smooths them out and puts the pieces together, you realise it’s a printed out map of the immediate area.

You also notice that she’s been holding something else in her hand: a chain with a crystal dowsing pendulum.

“Do you… need anything from me?” You ask uncertainly.

“Just for you to sit your tush down and stop hovering,” she says. “I already got what I need.”

She holds up the pendulum and as you kneel down by the table — not feeling worthy enough to join the girls on the couch — you can just make out the barely visible hair wrapped around the base. It’s the whisker you’d given her ages ago.

You figure she would have used it by now with how she boasted what a strong, useful ingredient it is, but here she is using it to help your dumb ass. You’re going to owe her more and you vow to yourself that you’ll resupply her and then some if this works.

As Roxy slides down to her knees in front of the table and holds the pendulum aloft above the map, you sneak a glance at Callie who gives you an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up.

You let her continued unrelenting support bolster you even if you are undeserving and you turn your attention back to what Roxy is doing. She has her eyes closed now and she’s muttering under her breath. You don’t bother trying to make sense of the words. Rather, you focus on the pendulum as she gets it moving, swinging in hypnotising circles above the map.

You’re finally going to find out where your sealskin has gone.

You can’t help but hold your breath, anticipation building as you watch and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the Call throbbing through your very being.

As Roxy stops muttering, the pendulum very sharply diverts from its path, drawn to a certain spot on the map like a magnet and you lean in eagerly.

The breath is knocked out of you as if someone delivered a physical blow when you see where it’s landed.

Standing perfectly and unnaturally upright, the sharp tip of the crystal rests on the exact spot of where Jake’s lighthouse is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just trust me ok
> 
> in the meantime, check out the amazing [art](http://ghylle.tumblr.com/tagged/fanart) people have made inspired by this fic and also come find me on [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Ghylle).


	6. between the sands, between the shores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the amazing comments last chapter, reading your reactions and theories has been an absolute delight and I appreciate every single one of you. I hope you'll enjoy this (slightly longer) new chapter too!

Your world goes dim and a strange numbness washes over you as you stare disbelievingly at where the crystal sits on the map. You’re hardly aware of anything else. Your world has narrowed to only the pendulum and the piece of paper beneath it.

“That’s Jake’s home,” you say and your voice sounds very distant to your own ears. If it weren’t for the sharp gasp coming from your side, you wouldn’t even be sure you spoke at all.

“ _What?_ Oh... _oh_ , Dirk, honey,” Roxy speaks and the tremor in her voice is what gets you to lift your head to look at her even though it suddenly feels impossibly heavy.

She looks as upset as you think you ought to feel. You don’t though. You feel like there’s ice in your veins, spreading a cold that numbs everything. Nothing filters through. You should feel… shock, maybe? Surprised like Callie is, both her clawed hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes wide; everything you’ve ever told Roxy about Jake no doubt relayed to her. Or perhaps you should feel betrayed and hurt, furious like the glint in Roxy’s eyes.

Instead there’s just nothing. A big, yawning emptiness that even the Call can’t reach.

You don’t resist when Roxy reaches for you and urges you to get up, only to gently ease you back down on the couch again. Your eyes drift back down to the map as you’re sat between her and Callie, only vaguely aware of her arms wrapping around you and the clawed hand slowly rubbing up and down your back.

Eventually the warmth plastered to both your sides seems to thaw the numbing cold and the first emotion to hit you is confusion.

“I don’t understand,” you say, your voice coming out oddly flat and robotic. “I would have found it.”

Although you hadn’t looked inside Jake’s home for it specifically, you’ve spend enough time in it that you know it top to bottom by now. You’ve been in the lighthouse itself a few times to enjoy the view too and it was empty. Not to mention you’ve been left alone in Jake’s home plenty of times. Would he have left you in close proximity of your skin on your own if he knew what you were? It doesn’t make any sense.

Could he really have taken your skin on purpose? Has he known all this time?

The rising tide of conflicting emotions that thought brings are hard for you to decipher. You have no idea how to feel.

Roxy has no such qualms.

“I’m going over there right the fuck now,” she exclaims passionately, getting to her feet with fire in her eyes.

You’re reaching for her, your hand closing around her wrist to stop her and keep her from marching her one-woman army over to Jake’s doorstep just as Callie pipes up.

“Settle down now, love,” she says calmly, a much-needed voice of reason between your emotional shutdown and Roxy’s impassioned fury on your behalf. “Let’s all calm down and figure this out.”

Roxy looks torn and you give her wrist a soft tug for emphasis, making her relent and sink back down with a huff. She rounds on you imploringly.

“Tell me _exactly_ what’s been going on between you and Jake.”

You do. You explain everything from your first meeting with him and the real nature of your relationship at the start and how it’s only shifted to being what Roxy presumed it to be recently. You don’t tell her that you think you might actually be in love with him. You’re not ready to admit that out loud. Especially now.

“This could all be a big misunderstanding,” Callie says thoughtfully when you’re finished although she doesn’t look entirely convinced of her own words, tapping her chin with a claw anxiously.

“Doesn’t sound like it to me! Coming to Dirk’s rescue like that? WAY too convenient,” Roxy protests and even though she’s calmed down during the duration of your explanation, you can tell her anger is simmering just below the surface.

You shrug, not taking a side when you honestly just don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore.

Rather than argue her case, Callie looks to you.

“Dirk, what do you want to do?”

It’s a good question and one you have to contemplate. You glance to the map as you think it over.

“I’ll curse him if you want me too,” Roxy says darkly much to Callie’s chagrin.

“Roxy!” She protests.

“What? I’m jus’ saying, it’s an option if it’s one Dirk wants to take. We could have him confessing in no time.”

It’s not the sort of thing Roxy uses her magic for, but you know she would do it for you if you wanted. You don’t. Both because you don’t want her to stray from her path like that and because despite everything, you don’t want to do that to Jake.

You shake your head.

“I think I’ll just go back and see if I can find it,” you say, more calmly than you feel. “Talk to him if I can’t.”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Roxy groans.

Callie seems more supportive of the notion as you catch her nodding from the corner of your eye.

“I think it’s probably better if you talked to him right away, but that’s a better choice than to go in metaphorical guns blazing and assuming the worst,” she offers.

You have no idea how it would go if you went and talked about it with him right from the get-go. Hell, you don’t know how to even start that conversation. It’s not like you don’t believe the result of Roxy’s spell, but you want proof first. You know Jake, he could talk his way out of it or feign ignorance without proof to confront him with.

You have to find your sealskin first and foremost. At least now you know where to look.

In the meantime you’ll just have to pretend and go on like normal, make sure he doesn’t catch on that you know. Fool him the same way he’s been fooling you until you find it and you can confront him.

“Well, I suppose you could always seduce him into talking, too,” Roxy speaks up nonchalantly, derailing your train of thought.

“Excuse me?” You turn your head to look at her, arching a single brow.

“You heard me, Di-Stri! He’s already got the hots for you, right? You could always use that to your advantage.”

“ _Roxy_ ,” Callie chides again, her green cheeks darkening in tone.

“What? It’s true! Dirk could flaunt his stuff and use his pretty boy wiles to get him to talk.”

You roll your eyes at Roxy even though you know she’s not entirely wrong. It _is_ something you can make use of knowing Jake’s interested in you. You’re not sure how or even if you could pull it off what with your own emotions complicating matters, but it’s a suggestion to keep in the back of your mind. Getting him to talk through a game of seduction is preferable over the alternative of siccing Roxy on him at least. God only knows what she would do.

You sigh and get to your feet, figuring you better get started on your search. You don’t get to take a step before Roxy has already snatched your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asks, squinting at you suspiciously.

“Back?” You offer, bewildered.

“How long do you think your search is going to take?”

You pause to consider that. Jane’s presence is a variable that can either work against you or aid you in your search. If Jake hasn’t hashed things out with her yet, it’s likely he’ll keep trying to rope you into their social interactions. If things have changed or you manage to finally dodge Jake’s attempts to keep you involved, then letting him have some alone time with Jane could be the perfect cover and distraction.

“I’m not sure,” you conclude helpfully.

“We better renew your spell then. C’mon, sit down,” she urges. “I’ll go prepare and call you over when I’m done, ‘kay?”

“Alright,” you relent, resisting the urge to argue that it’s fine and she shouldn’t bother. You know she won’t buy that and admittedly, it would be helpful if you could put all your focus on the search and not have it be split by the Call. You just don’t think you deserve the relief after hiding things from Roxy.

Regardless, you sit back down and watch her clear off the table before leaving the room.

“Are you alright?”

Callie pulls your attention towards her and you find her staring at you with big, concerned eyes. You think about lying, about shrugging this off like it means nothing to you and to shove down all feeling. Be business as usual.

Something about the way she’s looking at you with a silent knowing and understanding in her gaze keeps you from doing so.

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly.

She nods calmly, perfectly understanding, and doesn’t press further. She merely pours you another cup of tea that you obediently drink until Roxy calls you over and you go to her.

She puts you through the same process as before and you find yourself seated on the floor, Roxy re-drawing the faded sigils on your bare back. It’s a moment before she speaks up, posing a question you’ve been expecting the moment you set foot in her work room and found yourself alone with her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice is neutral, bordering on sounding casual and detached. You know damn well it’s masking hurt.

“I didn’t want to distract you from your work,” you start, continuing on when she makes a sound like she’s going to protest. “And I guess I was just too damn proud.”

You hear and feel her breathe out a sigh through her nose, the air gusting against your bare back.

“It was never about not trusting you. I do. You’re pretty much the only person I trust. I’m just...”

“A complete idiot?” She finishes for you.

“Yeah,” you admit with no resistance.

“Honestly, Dirk...” Even as she adopts a put-upon tone, there’s relief and perhaps even amusement threaded through the words. “If you ever land your ass in trouble again, you come straight to me or Callie, you hear?”

“Got it, Rox.”

“I mean it. I don’t wanna hear any bullshit excuses ever again,” she insists and you know you don’t stand a chance at denying her. “We’re your friends and we care a great deal about you.”

Even if you wanted to deny her or give empty words meant to placate, that statement is the coup de grace that renders you unable to.

“I promise.”

“ _Good_ ,” she says, satisfied, and with three fingers dragged across your back, she finishes drawing the sigils.

You feel better and not just because of the spell taking hold and making the Call fade.

 

* * *

 

You leave Roxy’s house after letting her and Callie fuss over you a little while longer and they only let you go after more promises of keeping them updated regularly and to come to them if things go south or if you need to duck out for whatever reason. Roxy also rambled off a list of ridiculous curses just in case you changed your mind and want to know what your options are. You’re not sure what turning Jake into a frog is supposed to accomplish other than letting Roxy live up to the stereotype, but you said you’d keep it in mind.

Now that you’re left on your own to make the trek back to Jake’s house, you have time to start making sense of your own thoughts and feelings on the revelation. Might as well have a meditative walk.

Confusion remains the front runner, the logistics of how Jake could have pulled this off and kept it secret for so long somewhat beyond you. It just doesn’t make sense to you. You can’t imagine Jake being _that_ manipulative. Then again your judgement could be off due to the fact you’re in fucking love with him and maybe viewing this through rose-tinted glasses. As is evidenced by how you continue to not be as upset as you feel you should be.

A part of you has the audacity to think: so what if he has your skin? Does it really matter? Would it change anything?

Which of course it does, essentially being manipulated into someone’s arms is not a good thing. It’s the principle of it, no matter how good you’ve had it with Jake.

There are some hints of hurt and betrayal to be found through all the confusion and you pick at that for a while until you come to a horrifying realisation at what the source is. It’s not Jake and what he might have possibly done to you. It’s _yourself_.

Not even because you were a fool for falling for it and for him, but because a part of you truly genuinely doesn’t care about this development. You’re apparently that desperate and lonely and besotten.

You feel betrayed by your own heart.

A small mercy is that self-loathing is nothing new to you. You’re intimately familiar with it and if there were such a thing as self-hatred olympics, you’d be a gold medalist and no competition would ever be able to hold a candle to you. Your disgust at yourself at this particular turn of events reaches a whole new depth though. This isn’t like a bad hook-up that you end up regretting, it’s so much worse because you let yourself feel things and get attached.

You weren’t supposed to do that and you know it. You’ve known it all this time.

Swallowing the bitterness, you work on suppressing the hell out of everything you’re feeling so that you’re in tip-top shape to continue on with the merry charade of being Jake’s “paramour”. If you can just find your skin, you can at least go back to where you belong.

You have a lid on your inner turmoil by the time you reach Jake’s home and you think you’re prepared for anything. Whatever happens, you’re as cool as a cucumber. You’ve got this.

At least that’s what you think right up until you get near the house and start making out loud voices. Loud voices distinctly _yelling_. You recognise that it’s Jane and Jake. Your steps slow to a halt a few feet away, trying to make out what’s being said like the horrible snoop that you are. You think you hear your own name being dropped as Jane yells and the temptation to move closer to the door in order to hear better increases tenfold.

Before you can decide to do it and lose your chance at plausible deniability, there’s the sound of hasty footsteps and then the front door flies open and Jake comes storming out. He doesn’t even see you, he’s furiously rubbing at his eyes as he immediately turns and runs off in the direction of the lighthouse.

“ _Jake!_ ”

You’re left staring like a deer in headlights when Jane is quick to follow to the door and freezes in the doorway upon seeing you.

You both stare at each other for what feels like an excruciatingly long time — in which you take note of the splotchy red stains on her cheeks and the frustrated tears in her eyes — but what in reality is probably just a second or two before you find your voice.

“Uh, I’ll go after him,” you offer and although she bites down on her lip uncertainly first, she ultimately nods and turns to go back into the house.

You veer towards the lighthouse and follow Jake at a sedated pace, letting him have some time alone and to give yourself a needed moment to brace yourself. Turns out you weren’t as prepared for anything as you thought you were. You certainly didn’t see this coming and how you’re going to handle possibly having to play at emotional support after your discovery is a mystery.

One you’re unfortunately going to have to find out.

You reach the lighthouse and since you don’t see Jake when you step inside, you start climbing your way up the stairs to the very top. You scan around for possible sealskin-hiding places as you go and don’t come across any such thing. Your only find is Jake sitting outside on the catwalk, looking small and forlorn with his knees pulled up to his chest.

After taking a quick moment to breathe in and steady yourself, you move to join him. You’ve consoled him before, surely you can do it again.

“Mind if I take a seat?” You ask as a way to announce your presence when he doesn’t react to your footsteps, his gaze focused ahead on the ocean with distant, red-rimmed eyes.

Unsurprisingly, he startles.

“Jesus Christmas! D- _Dirk?_ ”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that I saw you leaving as I got back.”

“O-oh,” he breathes out, taken aback and promptly looking embarrassed. You give him a few seconds to compose himself before you gesture to his side and tilt your head questioningly.

“Oh, r-right. Of course, chum,” he hastily says, offering you a fragile smile that makes your heart ache despite everything.

You take a seat by his side, careful to keep some distance between you, but not enough to make him suspicious. Just enough to be respectful of his space without making it awkward. Or that’s the plan anyway.

It’s immediately dashed when he shifts his leg and presses his knee against yours. So much for that.

“Apologies you had to see that,” he continues quietly.

“It’s fine,” you reply and although normally you wouldn’t be so quick to pry, right now you feel plenty justified to do so. “What happened?”

He looks away, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“Oh, it’s merely that Jane just... doesn’t understand.”

You wait for him to elaborate. Typically, he doesn’t.

“Understand what?”

“Well, um, everything?” He says haltingly, shoulders sagging. “Like she doesn’t understand why I took you in. She seems to think I can’t entirely trust you? Which is complete bollocks, of course. It’s been absolutely bully having you stay with me and you’re the most upstanding gent I know.”

Despite what you know, your treacherous heart skips a beat. Fortunately, he presses on before you have to think up a response to that.

“And I can’t make her understand why I’m so undecided about the company, she simply doesn’t get it,” he says sullenly before hiding his face in his hands with an upset noise.

You have an incredibly hard time imagining that the miserable heap next to you is the manipulative mastermind who took your sealskin and played you. Unless this is all part of the ploy, but that’s hard to grasp despite all your paranoia.

You look at Jake now and just… don’t see it. Could be those rose-tinted glasses of love at play.

Shoving the matter aside, you remember Callie’s clawed hand on your back and Roxy’s arms around you and after a beat of hesitation, you reach over and put an arm around his shoulders. It gets him to drop his hands, looking up at you in surprise before he gives you a watery smile and leans in.

He ends up resting his weight against you, his head resting on your shoulder, and you don’t resist when he takes your other hand and tangles your fingers together. Your heart feels heavy in your chest. You don’t know anything anymore.

You sit like that in silence for a little while, his breathing falling into sync with yours as he calms down. If you didn’t know what you do now, this would have been a peaceful moment. As it stands you’re filled with warring emotions that he’s completely oblivious to.

Eventually he breaks the hush settled over you when he’s regained composure.

“How did it go with your friend?”

It’s not a reminder that makes you feel better.

“Great,” you lie and then you add more truthfully: “It was good to see her again.”

“She seems like a real swell gal.”

_One who would very much like to rip you to shreds right now._ You think wryly as you nod.

“She is.”

“I would love to meet her,” he goes on blithely while your mind immediately screams ‘ _ABORT_ ’ at you. Shutting him down would be suspicious though so you hedge.

“Uh, maybe? She and her girlfriend had a long trip, need to settle back in and everything.”

“Of course, of course,” he nods sagely. Knowing how much he’s travelled in the past, you figure he gets it even though the excuse sounds weak to your ears. “But mayhaps some time down the line?”

“Yeah,” you agree, managing to keep your unease out of your voice and to yourself. Hopefully you’ll be able to find your skin before he gets serious about the suggestion.

You decide to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Think you’re ready to head back?”

The way he flinches tells you everything you need to know. You don’t even need to see his face, but you glance at him anyway. He’s the very embodiment of hesitant reluctance itself.

“You can’t avoid her forever, dude,” you point out helpfully.

“I know,” he sighs and sags more against you, turning and hiding his face in the crook of your neck with childish petulance. “But I’d much rather stay out here with you.”

“It’s getting cold,” you complain and you nudge him with your elbow.

He blows a raspberry against your skin, but he does pull away and get to his feet when you do. Although he keeps hold of your hand, he follows you in a subdued manner when you lead him all the way down the stairs and up to his house. Only when you reach the doorstep does he let go.

It quickly turns out that his reluctance was for naught. Save for Halley, the house is empty and devoid of Crocker. There’s only a note on the kitchen table to be found that states she’s gone back to her hotel and they’ll have to talk after they’ve both had time to cool off.

Predictably Jake doesn’t look too happy about that, but he’s clearly relieved to be postponing any further confrontation.

It’s only when you glance at the clock that you realise how late it’s gotten, dinner time already, and you both unanimously decide to heat up some frozen pizzas for dinner. It’s been an emotionally draining day and you resign yourself to the fact that you won’t get any searching done today.

It’s how you end up in a lazy sprawl with Jake on the couch. You’re barely aware of the movie he’s put on or the taste of the pizza, your focus is on the warmth of Jake’s body against yours and how that simple act still stirs heat in you. Your heart and body are both traitors to your sensible mind.

On the flipside you’re not arousing any suspicion when he seemingly grows bored of the movie and starts getting handsy with you. You don’t have it in you to find some excuse to deny his advances and so you let it happen, trying your best to squash down all emotion and to think of someone else, remembering one of your better one night stands.

It doesn’t work. You can’t do it. All you can think of is him as he kisses you breathless and slips his hand down your pants.

To your great shame, he gets you off effortlessly in spite of your discovery. You still run hot for him and there’s nothing you can do about it. You only have yourself to be disgusted at and even that doesn’t stop you from returning the favor and enjoying every second of it. Against your better judgement, you find yourself memorising his face in the throes of pleasure, the sound of his voice and how it hitches on your name as he bucks up into your touch. You drink it all up because you don’t know how long this facade is going to last.

After he comes and you’ve both had a moment to come down from the high, he sweetly asks you to turn in with him. You go with easy agreement and you’re treated to the stupidly domestic task of brushing your teeth together, standing side by side. He keeps shooting you warm, fond glances the whole time that make your insides squirm uncomfortably.

You follow him to bed and curl up with him like usual, but you don’t sleep much that night. You lie awake, his arm slung around you and weighing you down, and watch him sleep. He looks younger and no less devastatingly handsome in rest. Innocent, too. Looking at him, you can’t drudge up any resentment whatsoever.

It makes you want to tear your heart out.

You drift in and out of sleep and come morning, you slip out of bed when you find yourself free from Jake’s grip, apparently having rolled over to his other side in his sleep. You get dressed and take a long walk with Halley in an attempt to clear your head. It doesn’t help much, you can’t even take comfort in the rhythmic sounds of the ocean. The brisk morning air at least helps you feel more alert.

Jake’s still not out of bed when you return and so you decide to cook breakfast. Toasting the bread is easy and you think you can manage some eggs and bacon. You put on some coffee and get to it. The smells are enough to lure Jake from his room.

He comes shuffling into the kitchen, arms wrapping around your waist from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Mmm good morning, that smells absolutely scrumptious.”

His voice is scratchy and deep with sleep, sending a trickle of heat down your spine to settle low in your gut that you stubbornly ignore as you murmur a greeting back.

What’s harder to ignore is Jake catching you in a kiss the moment you turn your head and he doesn’t let you go. Warm lips draw you in as he moves his mouth against yours in slow, tantalizing movements, his hand sliding under your shirt and splaying on your stomach. You don’t stand a chance when his tongue invades your mouth and you find yourself having an impromptu make-out session.

At least until you snap out of it when you nearly burn your eggs. You shoo him away to the kitchen table and he goes chuckling, eyes sparking with mischief.

You’re going to miss this, you think distantly.

He pours you coffee as you bring over the food and you settle down for breakfast, you refuse to engage with him as he tries to play footsie under the table, your (insincere) stoic adamance only amusing him more.

A good distraction is his phone buzzing with messages on the table.

He’s ignoring it after a glance at the name popping up on screen so you take it upon yourself to read them for him so he can’t.

“Jane wants to meet you for lunch in town,” you say after a quick scan of the screen.

He sighs deeply, poking at this eggs.

“I suppose we should go then,” he says reluctantly.

“No, she’s clearly inviting just you,” you quickly interject and you don’t let yourself be swayed when he looks up at you with wide eyes. “You’re going to have to settle this sooner or later. She’s your family.”

You watch him frown, clearly displeased with the stance you’ve taken, before he deflates, slumping over a little and staring down at his plate.

“Right,” he says flatly.

“It’s going to be fine.” You nudge his phone towards him and after a moment of poking at his eggs some more, he finally picks it up and starts texting back.

You feel a rush at knowing you’re going to have your chance to look for your skin while Jake is out. It makes you antsy, but you force it down and calmly finish your breakfast.

In his own fit of unease, Jake makes something of a nuisance of himself throughout the morning. He keeps pawing at you, trying to tempt you back upstairs for a “roll in the hay”. You know exactly what’s doing and you refuse to be his excuse not to show for lunch. You’re not about to give up your chance when you don’t know when you’ll have another. You don’t budge an inch, only indulging in a kiss or two, and he eventually gives up and turns sullen.

You don’t let that guilt you and send him on his way with some (attempted) words of encouragement when the afternoon rolls around.

The moment he’s gone, you begin your search like a man possessed.

You start with the lighthouse, just to be completely sure, and search every nook and cranny of it, studying the walls and stairs for any hidden compartments or such. When you find none, you take your search back to the house.

Halley follows you around curiously as you work the ground floor, turning over everything you possibly can. You’re not too surprised when nothing remotely suspicious turns up. You’re banking your hopes on upstairs. Probably his room that he’s only started sharing with you recently. He’d been willing to give you his grandma’s room and it’s not like you’ve ever been alone in his room for long before. It makes sense.

You distract Halley with a piece of bacon to keep him from following you up and your pulse quickens as you ascend the stairs. You’ve got to be close. You just have to be.

You send Roxy a quick text that you’re on the hunt and that you might have narrowed it down. She immediately calls you. Putting your phone on speaker, you toss it on the bed.

“It has to be here,” you tell her, surveying the room. “I’ve checked most everything else.”

“D’you want me to come over and use another locator spell? We could find it in no time.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

And you don’t know what Roxy will do to him if she sees him face-to-face. You’re not jonesing to find out.

You tune her out when she starts arguing back, turning your attention to the closet. Hiding it among fabrics would be the clever ‘hide in plain sight’ sort of thing to do. You offhandedly mention that to Roxy and it gets her to start suggesting places to you while you rifle through his clothes.

Nothing there. You even go through his underwear and sock drawer in a bid of desperation.

You move on to the nightstand here you mostly find reading material (comics of course) and a brand new unopened bottle of lube that promptly has your throat feeling a little dry. You feel quite fortunate that Roxy isn’t actually here to see the light flush spreading across your cheeks. You’d never live it down.

As it stands, you can keep your voice even and monotone and she’s none the wiser of your accidental find. Clearly Jake’s had plans for you and you have to wonder when he bought that bottle.

Herding your thoughts away from that topic, you turn your focus on the most juvenile of hiding places: under the bed.

You’re momentarily excited when you find there’s quite a bit of clutter under there. It’s quick to tank when it turns out to be old clothes and junk like a box full of childhood toys. Desperation is starting to creep up on you now that you’re running out of places to look.

“I don’t think it’s here,” you say after you go through the effort of lifting the mattress.

“What haven’t you checked yet?” Roxy’s voice remains calm and decisive. It helps against the rising tide of desperation.

“The bathroom and his grandma’s room.” And you’re intimately familiar with the bathroom. You know it’s not there.

“Obvious choice,” she says.

“Yeah.”

You hastily cover your tracks, leaving everything the way it was, and cross the hall to enter his grandma’s room, taking your phone with you.

The first thing that grabs your attention is the dresser for the same reason that Jake’s closet did. You feel distinctly weird as you start going through what must be his grandmother’s clothes. You mention as much to Roxy who laughs at you.

“It feels disrespectful,” you protest.

You don’t find your skin in any of the drawers so you move to the smaller closet. Your attention is immediately caught by a small chest sat on the bottom, tucked away behind some shoes.

You crouch down and reach for it, fingers brushing along the lid and the lock. There’s no key in sight and in your attempt to lift the lid, it turns out to be locked. You curse under your breath and you’re about to lift the chest out of the closet when you hear something that makes you freeze.

You go very still and strain your ears and what you hear… is definitely the excited pitter-patter of Halley’s feet on the floor down below. It’s the kind of sound you’ve grown used to be being greeted by.

Sure enough you hear the front door being opened and you dive for your phone where you put it on the dresser, fumbling to turn it off speaker.

“I’m back!” Jake’s voice rings clear through the house.

“Shit, gotta go. He’s back,” you whisper into the receiver, not waiting for a response before you disconnect. You hurry to close the closet door as quickly and silently as possible, repeating the same process with the door as you tiptoe out of the room.

You suppress the swell of frustration that rises up in you — you were onto something, dammit — and swiftly move down the stairs to meet Jake.

“Hey,” you greet casually when he comes into view.

He glances up from where he’s crouched down, petting Halley, and his expression is an inscrutable blank that unnerves you.

“How’d it go?” You venture with as much grace and subtlety as a bull in a chinashop.

You don’t think it can’t have gone well with how unreadable his face is. He shrugs and gets to his feet.

“Honestly, I can’t say I care much for talking about it.”

… Fair enough, you suppose. Can’t really argue with that.

“Sorry,” you say when you don’t know what else to say.

He shakes his head, dismissing your apology and shrugging off his coat.

You hover uncertainly on the spot, suddenly feeling like an intruder which is pretty ridiculous, all things considered. Yet the feeling is there as he hangs up his coat, looking distant.

It only eases when he looks back to you and finally offers a smile. It’s thin and reveals how worn out he is more than offer anything reassuring, but it’s there and less rattling than the blank nothing from before.

“Say, dearheart, would you care for another outing tonight?”

You blink at the term of endearment and at the proposition itself. He doesn’t exactly look like he’s up for it and you frankly feel vexed at the thought of leaving the house when you’re itching to get at the chest. It’s not like you could get it even if you declined. With Jake in the house, you can’t get to it.

“Sure,” you agree.

His smile grows a little wider, eyes crinkling.

“Let’s have ourselves a nice dinner then,” he says, the brightness in his voice not reaching his eyes.

You nod.

 

* * *

 

You have dinner late and it’s not exactly an awkward affair, but it’s not what you’ve come to expect from going out with Jake. He’s withdrawn and doesn’t talk much, clearly more in his hermit mode. You’re not sure why he bothered going out when he’s not feeling it. He picks away at his steak without any gusto whatsoever. You try engaging him a few times to no avail. A brick wall might be more responsive than him.

He seems to realise this too.

“I’m terribly sorry, chap,” he starts, setting down his fork and knife with a pained expression. “I was hoping I could take my mind off things, but this is turning out to be a horrendous date.”

He looks absolutely wretched about it and despite yourself, you’re quick to reassure him, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

“Hey, it’s cool. Let’s just finish and go home,” you say softly and watch him nod sheepishly as he squeezes your hand back.

You finish your piece of fish fillet and you both silently decide to skip dessert and head on home.

The ride back is a largely silent one and to keep it from lapsing into awkwardness, you turn on the radio. He shoots you a tiny, grateful smile.

When you get home you expect him to retreat and you think maybe that will grant you the opportunity to poke at the chest and see what it’s about.

What you don’t expect is for Jake to pin you against the wall the moment you’ve taken off your coat and boots. You barely have time to register the hands on your hips before your back hits the wall and he presses himself flush against you. You can’t help the surprised gasp against his mouth as he kisses you.

“I’d very much like to stop thinking for a while,” he murmurs against your lips and the desperate plea in both his voice and half-lidded eyes is received loud and clear.

So do you, actually. Not thinking for a while sounds absolutely fantastic.

“Okay,” you concede, putting your arms around his shoulders and tilting your head for a better angle to kiss him back.

It sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine when his grip on your hips turn tighter, downright possessive, and he nips at your bottom lip. You’re so fucking down for this, your heart and head be damned.

Your shameful eagerness only increases when he proceeds to urge your legs around him and he lifts you up like you weigh nothing. Just that casual demonstration of strength has you on board and ridiculously turned on.

He makes it to the stairs before Halley nearly trips him up and he has to set you down. The disruption of his smooth move at least makes him laugh and the sound is good to hear after the sullen silence all evening. You don’t linger on that thought and instead tug him upstairs with you.

It’s not unlike the first time you got pulled into his room, the way you both stumble into it while desperately grabbing for each other, mouths never parting for longer than a few seconds. He kisses you like he’s a man drowning and you’re his only hope of oxygen. You respond in kind. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, but fuck it. You want to get out of your own head for a while, get lost in physical pleasure and feel good if only for a little while.

If this has all been a ruse to get to this point, then so be it.

He slows down the frantic pace when he strips you of your clothing, taking the time to run his hands over every bit of skin he reveals with caresses that border on being worshipful until he has you squirming impatiently.

You strip him with far less care and shove him onto the bed before clambering into his lap. His hands and mouth are on you immediately, teeth grazing your throat and warm palms gliding up and down your back. It sets all your nerves alight.

You want him more than anything you’ve ever wanted before and right now you can’t dredge up the effort to hate yourself for it. You can do that in the morning. You can’t even pretend this is just one of your hookups, but that’s fine.

You get lost in the feeling of his skin against yours, the suction on your neck as Jake works on marking you up, and the hands coming to encouragingly grip your hips as you roll them and work yourself up against him shamelessly.

He makes the most wonderful sound — a low groan that you feel reverberate through your own chest as it’s pressed against his — when you decide to return the favor and mark him in return by raking your nails along his back. It unravels more of your self-control and patience.

“Fuck me,” you plead breathlessly and he kisses you hard in response before telling you where the lube is. You already know, of course, but you obligingly nod.

Leaning away and breaking some of the contact is torture, yet you do it anyway, retrieving the lube. You plan on working yourself open as quickly as possible, but he takes the lube from you when you lean back and it gets within his reach. The way he regards you with obvious want in his eyes quells any urge to protest so you let him have it.

Your stomach clenches in anticipation as he slicks up his fingers, not breaking eye contact with you all the while, and he reaches around you just as he leans in to kiss you. The slick fingers teasing against your hole have you whining against his lips, hips twitching. He fortunately decides to take mercy and without further preamble, slides a finger inside of you. Your breath stutters out of you in a shaky sigh.

You feel his other hand drift from your hip down between the both of you and you bat his hand away before he can wrap his fingers around you.

He makes an inquiring noise at you and it takes you a moment before you can tear your focus away from the finger he’s working inside of you and find your voice.

“Want to come like this,” you manage. _Untouched_ , you don’t say. You don’t need to.

By how his pupils dilate and he breathes out as if the air has been punched out of him, you think he gets it.

“Jesus christmas...” He murmurs breathlessly and you pointedly clench around his finger, making him hiss. “ _Fuck,_ Dirk.”

“That’s the plan,” you say, deadpan.

Your smart-assery earns you a smack to your ass and you jolt, kind of unintentionally fucking yourself on his finger. You get a lot more intentional about it when he takes his sweet, sweet time working you open, adding another and dragging his fingers in and out of you excruciatingly slowly until it drives you mad. You push back on them, rolling your hips insistently until you get him to stop being such a godawful tease and goad him into fingerfucking you in earnest.

Your stomach is slick with both your own precum and his by the time he can’t take it anymore.

You’re lifted and pushed onto your back and you keep your legs open for him. He sits back and stares at you hungrily, squeezing himself. It sends a flush spilling down your neck and chest and your cock throb painfully with arousal. You wriggle your hips meaningfully and he takes the hint, giving himself a quick stroke before he’s reaching for the lube.

Part of you thinks this could have been made easier and more impersonal if you got him to take you from behind, but another part of you — the one that wins out — wants him just like this where you can see him. You stop thinking about it altogether when he’s done coating himself and shifts to line himself up, the sensation of the slick tip pressing against your hole turning your thoughts into white static.

You wrap your legs around him, locking your ankles over his ass, as he starts pressing in. He’s slow and so painfully gentle about it, you can’t handle it. Using the grip of your legs around him, you reel him in and force him to roughly slide home.

You take great satisfaction in his choked gasp and how deliciously full you feel, a shaky groan wrenched from your own throat.

He stays still like that, buried all the way inside of you, panting against your neck and trying to catch his breath. When he does, he starts babbling into your ear about how amazing you feel, how good you are, and you silence him with a kiss involving plenty of tongue.

It’s quick to turn sloppy when he starts moving.

He keeps his movements on the slower and more sensual side of things at first; it’s a gentleness that’s agony to you, makes a warmth settle in your chest that has no business being there. It’s easy enough to urge him on with your heels and the rolling of your hips. In no time at all you’ve whittled away at his self-control and he starts pounding into you just like you want it.

You lose yourself in the sensations and sounds. The air is filled with harsh breathing, grunts, moans, and the obscene noise of skin slapping against skin. It works wonders to silence your mind, narrow your world down to only pleasure and heat.

You end up wrapped tight around him, arms around his neck, legs a firm lock around his hips, as he fucks you with a desperation that makes it seem as if his life depends on nailing you just right. And nail you right he does. He shifts in the limited space you afford him and finds the perfect angle that hits the sweet spot, his cock brushing against your prostate and making you cry out.

With only a few thrusts he has you devolving into a writhing mess, incoherently begging for more, for him to go faster and harder. He obliges and you lose all sense of self, you’re only a bundle of sensations and heat coiling tighter and tighter until it eventually snaps.

You come hard enough to see stars with a choked call of his name, your whole body going taut as you paint both your stomachs with hot streaks. His hips stutter as you clench around him, but he keeps relentlessly fucking you, chasing his own pleasure. You let him, holding on tight with waning strength as tremors wreck your body.

You’re driven to the point of near-painful overstimulation when Jake’s movements finally turn erratic and he spills inside of you, gasping. You feel his dick twitch, the sensation making you groan weakly, before he collapses completely.

You’re a panting, sweaty heap of tangled limbs and you don’t know where you end and he begins as you both try to catch your breath.

When you regain some faculty, you manage to unhook your ankles and lower your legs slowly, wincing at the ache making itself known in your thighs. You know you’ll definitely be feeling this in more ways than one in the morning. You’re going to be sore and aching.

_Good._

Jake lifts his head from where he’s been hiding his face in the crook of your neck, looking at you through heavy-lidded eyes and with a small, fond smile on his face that looks adorably dopey in his blissed-out state.

He kisses you sweetly and you fail to suppress a whimper when he lifts himself and slips out of you. He gently shushes you and runs a hand through your hair that’s unfairly soothing. You let him slip from arms so he can resettle next to you, wasting no time rolling onto your side — ignoring the pangs of protest from your body — and pressing close.

He holds you and murmurs words of praise into your hair that you can only vaguely make out. You don’t try to decipher what exactly he’s saying, instead letting the sound of his voice wash over you as you bask in the afterglow.

You don’t know how long you lie there, but it’s long enough for the sweat on your skin to dry and cool and for you to start feeling a little gross and long for a hot shower. Eventually it’s that longing that wins out over the drowsy fatigue keeping you in place.

Jake blinks blearily at you when you pull back.

“I want to shower,” you explain in a quiet mumble.

“Well, why not have one together?”

You don’t have it in you to argue nor do you really see a reason as to why you should, so you don’t.

You actually end up grateful that he goes along because the moment you get to your feet you find out you’re a lot more sore than you thought you’d be.

He guides you with gentle hands and once he’s got you both squeezed into his shower, he begins washing you. You would protest you can do that yourself just fine, but his hands in your hair, fingers massaging your scalp as he works the shampoo in, turn you into useless putty. Might as well let him do the rest of your body too when he seems intent on washing your whole body for you.

You’ve never done this with someone before and it’s scarily intimate in a way you couldn’t ever have conceived.

If you weren’t so thoroughly sated and tired, you would have run for the hills. Too bad for you there’s absolutely no fight left in you and you let him do as he pleases. Even if it gives you terrifying warm fuzzies.

Warm fuzzies that consume you whole when he kisses you to distract you as his hand wanders down from your back and slips between your cheeks. He’s so goddamn gentle with you as he cleans you, it hurts. Your sore behind has nothing on the ache that blooms in your heart.

Again you find yourself wondering, would Jake having your skin and essentially owning you really be so bad? If this is the treatment you’re given, it’s not.

But what if he’s only like this now while he thinks you’re ignorant? Would you truly be willing to gamble your freedom on that?

It’s a souring thought and one you don’t care to linger on. This is a nice moment and you’re not about to ruin it with your usual overthinking.

Instead, to keep yourself occupied, you offer to return his kindness when he’s done and had his fun admiring your ‘sweet tattoo’ by tracing it with fingers and lips. He relents easily and you get to let your hands learn every contour of his body as you wash him.

You make sure to pay some extra attention to his ass, much to his amusement. In your defense, it’s a very fine ass indeed and it deserves to be appreciated. It’s one of the best you’ve ever seen if not the very best.

Once you’re both clean and rinsed off, you step out of the shower and your attempts at drying each other off lead to a languid make-out session, tongues tangling sleepily, until your eyes grow too heavy and you start swaying on the spot that's when you decide to cut it short.

Neither of you bother with clothes when you return to Jake’s bedroom and crawl under the covers, cuddling up like usual.

You feel warmed to the core as you drift off to sleep.

But you’re still going to have to find your skin.


	7. between the stones, between the storms

You’re briefly woken in the morning when you feel the mattress shift and warmth leave your side. You hear Jake get up, putter around the room for a second, and then leave. You debate getting up as well for 0.5 seconds before deciding nah, you’re too cozy and not ready to face the day just yet.

You let yourself slip back into sleep’s embrace.

It’s some undetermined time later that you wake more fully and do manage to convince your ass out of bed.

Your still kind of sore ass.

… Worth it though.

You gather and put on some clothes before you make your way downstairs. You can smell that Jake’s made breakfast, but you wander into an empty kitchen. There’s a plate laid out for you with a note by it, reading: `Brb. Gone to walk halley. :)`

You feel wide-awake when you promptly realise this gives you the chance to examine the chest.

You turn and make it one step back towards the stairs before it dawns on you that you’re actually famished. You hesitate for only a split-second and then grab the waffle that’s been laid out for you, cramming it into your mouth and chewing hastily as you hurry back up the stairs.

You have no idea how long he’s been gone while you had your lie in. You have to act fast.

Quietly and swiftly you slip into Grandma English’s room, making a beeline for the closet. You throw the doors open and crouch down...

To find nothing.

The chest is gone. There’s only the clothes hanging from the rack and the shoes.

Your heart plummets.

What the actual fuck? What does this mean?

You stare in complete disbelief for a good few seconds and then you unfreeze, launching into a whirl of motion as you go through the room to find it or your sealskin.

You find nothing.

Confused and anxious and at a complete loss, you decide to call Roxy as you make your way back downstairs to sit down at the kitchen table in a haze.

“It’s gone,” you tell her the moment she picks up.

“Oh wow, hello to you too, Di-Stri,” she says, perplexed before continuing in a gentler tone. “What’s gone?”

“The chest I found the other day. It’s gone. It has to be in there.”

“Oh shit, did he catch you snooping yesterday?”

“No.”

“Huh. Then what changed?”

Your mind blanks as you realise you’ll have to tell Roxy that you had sex with Jake against your better judgement and despite knowing what you know.

“Uh...” You offer eloquently.

“Dirk?”

“We fucked,” you admit, utterly graceless.

There’s a startled pause on the other end of the line.

“Went hard on that seduction tactic, huh?” She asks eventually, her voice soft in quiet bemusement.

“Rox, I...” You falter, feeling the need to justify yourself or at the very least offer an explanation.

The only one you’ve got sticks in your throat and coats it like syrup, the words just hanging there as your heart starts beating off its usual rhythm.

You should say it. You owe her that much. She deserves to know after how much she’s helped you and after what you’ve kept from her.

You hear her make a worried, questioning noise.

“I think I might be in love with him,” you confess in a quiet rush of words, forcing them out and ignoring how the admittance makes your chest seize up and makes it difficult to breathe.

“Oh… Oh, honey...”

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sympathy you can hear in her voice and do your best to tune out the anxious fluttering in your chest. Admitting it out loud — and to another person at that — makes it feel more real. You can’t take back those words now that you’ve spoken them.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?” There’s a gentle tease in her voice and you much prefer a ribbing like this than the sympathy.

Your breath leaves you in a half-amused huff despite yourself.

“Sure do,” you agree wryly.

She hums thoughtfully and you’re distracted from it when you hear noise by the front door. Jake must be returning home.

“How ‘bout you come round today and we get all our ducks in a row? Line ‘em up real good, get a nice parade of ducks going on. They’ll be the talk of the town, no row of ducks will ever have been so neat and organised. The people will cry out in envy.”

Entirely against your will, you’re cracking a tiny smile at her wayward metaphor.

It still lingers on your face as Jake steps into view and you nod at him, lifting two of your fingers in greeting. He nods and smiles back at you.

“Sounds like a plan, Ro-Lal,” you say.

“See you soon then!”

“Yeah, see you.”

You hang up and lift your head as Jake steps around the table and moves closer into your personal space.

“‘Morning, sleepyhead,” he greets you, kissing your cheek.

“Hey,” you reply, too aware of the tightness in your chest that had eased with Roxy’s chatter twisting up again.

“Was that your lovely gal pal?”

“Yeah, she asked me to come see her today.”

If it bothers Jake that you’re going out on your own today, he doesn’t show it as he pours himself a cup of coffee and joins you at the table.

“That sounds like a swell time,” he simply says.

After, he lets you go without fuss and the lingering kiss he gives you before you depart isn’t unnecessarily drawn out or anything. You’re not sure what to make of that. Maybe Jane isn’t insisting on spending time with him today and he’s eager to have some alone time. Whatever the case, you shove it to the back of your mind as you make your way over to Roxy’s house. Your progress is a tiny bit slower than usual with the ache in your legs and general soreness, but you make it in good time.

Roxy’s waiting for you and you’re immediately wrapped up into a hug the second she sees you. You don’t put on any fronts and just sink into the embrace, breathing in her floral perfume and soaking up her warm affection.

She brings you inside and Callie has made you some coffee with “a little something extra added”. Turns out she’s essentially made you a cup of Irish coffee.

You’ve done nothing to deserve these amazing women in your life, but god if you aren’t thankful to have them in your corner.

Mercifully, Roxy doesn’t bring up your confession despite the knowing glances she shoots you. Instead she bounces ideas off of you as to what your next step might be in locating your sealskin.

“Can’t you make like a truth potion or something to get him to talk?” You ask her, more sincere than your nonchalant tone would indicate.

She raises an eyebrow at you which is answer enough, really.

“Hon, this isn’t Harry Potter,” she responds.

You pretend you don’t know what she’s talking about and pointedly raise an eyebrow right back at her.

She snorts and shakes her head before lapsing into a thoughtful silence.

“Influencing people like that is difficult magic,” Callie elaborates for her. “It requires ingredients we don’t have on hand and it’s… well, it comes close to what some would call ‘dark magic’ although I wouldn’t say that’s entirely a correct distinction to make.”

No can do then. You don’t want Roxy dipping her toes in and meddling with stuff she shouldn’t on your behalf.

“But if you can sneak me into the house, I could locate your skin for you,” Roxy suggests.

You don’t mention that Jake has been wanting to meet her and that therefore sneaking her in would probably be unnecessary. Besides, if she’s going to do witchcraft then it’s better if Jake isn’t there to potentially accidentally witness it.

“That would only work if it’s still in the house though,” Callie pipes up thoughtfully.

“I can check right now,” Roxy says, getting to her feet.

“Don’t you need another whisker?” You ask.

“If I wanted a super accurate reading, yeah. But I think it’ll be enough if we know the area it’s in.”

She collects the necessary stuff and you watch her do the spell again. This time, instead of pinpointing the location on the map, the pendulum swings small circles above the map. To your relief, it’s circling the general area around the lighthouse.

“That settles it then!” Roxy chimes up, looking at you conspiratorially. “Think you can sneak me in?”

“Possibly. His cousin is still in town so he might leave to go see her.” If not, you can encourage him to go. You think you might be able to sway him or bribe him with the reward of late night fun if you absolutely must.

“What will you do when you get it back?” Callie asks, looking at you meaningfully.

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? Originally you’d planned to confront Jake with it, but now you’re not sure what you want to do. You could hide the skin and keep playing along and see if he cracks and fesses up. You could also go home and never look back.

“I don’t know,” you admit ruefully.

“Doesn’t matter, getting it back is what’s most important right now,” Roxy interjects with a decisive tone. “You can always figure it out after you get your freedom back.”

You nod. Roxy’s right. It’s not a decision you have to make right this moment. You can make a better decision without the whole missing sealskin thing hanging over your head. You still have time.

“I’ll call you as soon as I see a chance for you to come over.”

With that plan in place, you linger a while longer in their company. It’s good to just hang out with Roxy and Callie and you know you should have done it more often than you have in the past. They tell you stories of clients and their conundrums mingling with the mundane and it makes you feel less alone. Roxy offers for you to talk about your feelings regarding Jake and doesn’t hold it against you when you instantly decline.

Just admitting already felt like too much.

You at least feel somewhat better than you did this morning by the time you leave their house. You have the reassurance that you’ll find your skin, having no doubts about Roxy’s skills. You do your best to focus solely on that bit of optimism and not ruminate on everything else surrounding it.

Naturally, you fail.

When you get back to the house, you come across Jane on her way out. She doesn’t look upset, but her expression is severe as she nods at you and brushes past to leave. It’s not a very reassuring sight.

You move further into the house and find Jake in the kitchen, staring listlessly at an empty mug clutched between his hands.

“Hey,” you approach cautiously when he doesn’t look up at you, your presence seemingly having gone unnoticed.

He drags his eyes up to meet your gaze and although you’re glad to find that his eyes aren’t reddened or glistening, you’re not reassured one bit. He looks lost.

“What happened?” You ask carefully, sitting down next to him.

“Nothing,” he says immediately. Luckily he continues straight away without you having to prompt him. “Janey is giving me a deadline, is all. If I don’t make a decision before then, I’ll lose the company to someone else. Guess the board got tired of waiting for me. Can’t say I blame them.”

“How long do you have?”

“I have to fly home by the end of this week and then I get a week to give my answer.”

Well. Shit. You have no idea what this is going to mean for you. It’s Wednesday now. That means you have four days to find your sealskin and find out the truth.

“Fuck,” you say, the word just slipping out.

“Mmhm,” he agrees and the deadened expression on his face cracks, sadness seeping in when he looks at you. “Um, I do hope you got that passport thing sorted out by now.”

Your throat constricts and you have to push past the feeling in order to manage a response.

“Yeah, man. Don’t worry about it.”

It’s clearly not a reassuring response to him seeing how his mouth does a funny twist like he’s trying to smile but then his expression crumbles entirely. He lets go of his mug to hide his face in his hands.

You move without thinking, throwing an arm around him. You fight your own swell of emotions as you stroke his back awkwardly.

This is not a development you could have foreseen and suddenly having a deadline increases the pressure tenfold. Jake is leaving and that means none of your decisions are going to matter. All that matters is finding your skin as soon as possible. You don’t want to wait and find out what will happen if you don’t find it. Would he just keep it? Would he come back for you? The mention of your passport makes that latter bit seem unlikely.

You want to pry for answers to get some idea of his intentions, but he’s obviously too upset to really talk.

You make tea for the both of you and once he’s calmed down, you suggest he join you for Halley’s walk. He does and it’s a silent, somber walk during which he keeps a tight hold of your hand the entire way. Dinner is some heated-up soup and the evening is spent on the couch, watching a romcom that neither of your attentions are really on.

When you decide to call it a night and he tugs you upstairs, you both get ready for bed. You can’t really enjoy the stupidly domestic act of brushing teeth together again, you’re too full of inner turmoil. Once in bed, he kisses you, long and hard. There’s an urgency behind it that you feel yourself.

It doesn’t take long at all for hands to find their way under clothing and then for said clothing to be shed entirely. His covetous hands seem intent on tracing every inch of you like he’s trying to commit the feeling of every little patch of skin to memory and you can’t say you’re not doing the same. This is likely going to be one of the last times — maybe even _the_ last time — you get to do this with him and you’re not thinking twice to seize up the chance. Even if you maybe should. You don’t care for any lingering soreness either, you’re more than willing to let him have you again.

It turns out that’s not his intention either.

When he has you pinned down, straddling your hips, he leans forward and asks you in a rough, low tone to have _him_ instead.

“You seemed quite appreciative of my tush after all,” he tells you when you ask if he’s sure, shifting back to rub his ass against your dick to make his point.

There’s no way you could refuse that and so you jokingly tell him it would be your honour.

What ends up happening after some prepping is that Jake has you staying put on your back while he rides you. You expect it to be hard and fast to match the urgency that’s egging you both on in this endeavour, but instead he takes his time with you, taking you apart with slow rolls of his hips and the occasional bounce. It’s maddening and also perfect how he keeps having his way with you, keeping control by setting the pace and rhythm until you’re overwhelmed by the pleasure and tight heat of him that’s still not quite enough. Your fingers digging into his thighs are threatening to leave marks with how tightly you hold on to him.

He only picks up the pace when you beg him to and then he starts fucking himself on your cock without restraint, riding you like he was goddamn born for it until his rhythm grows erratic and falters entirely when he finds just the right angle. He’s a glorious sight to behold, flushed and panting, head thrown back with a moan. You admire the view for a few seconds before you take firm hold of his hips and thrust up hard a few times, drawing out more of those incredible shameless moans.

It’s enough to send you over the edge, buried deep inside him, and you have him following suit and clenching wonderfully around you with a few firm strokes of your hand.

Afterwards you both collapse and almost instantly fall asleep, both emotional and physical exertion taking their toll swiftly. You wake in the morning when you hear Jake get up and take a shower. You doze a little while longer while you wait for your turn, breathing in the scent of Jake all around you as you lie sprawled in his bed, trying to savor it while you can. You can’t shake the feeling you’re going to lose him one way or the other whether through his choice or your own. You might as well make the best of it while you have the opportunity, make sure to commit every detail to memory because you know you’re never going to find someone like Jake again.

He’s one of a kind.

You drift uneasily between heavy thoughts and the warm comfort of the bed keeping you on the edge of sleep until the smell of coffee rouses you further into a more wakeful state. Time to face the music, you figure. As nice as it would be to get Jake to join you and laze the day away, time is of the essence now.

Mustering the dredges of your willpower, you roll out of bed and go take a shower. You don’t make it one of your epically long ones, just long enough that you can soak up the warmth and let it loosen your muscles a bit before you reluctantly get out from under it. You’re going to miss this shower. It’s nothing fancy and actually rather small, not like some expensive hotels you’ve stayed in with hookups before at all, but Jake has let you take showers for however long you want without saying anything about it.

You get dressed and start heading downstairs, bracing yourself for what’s to come. Neither of you broached the subject yesterday, but you’re going to have to talk about the fact that Jake is leaving. Maybe you could talk him into going into town to talk to Jane about delaying the whole thing and you can call Roxy over while he’s gone.

Convincing Jake to initiate a confrontation and meet it head-on is going to be difficult to say the least. However, it’s not like you have a whole lot of options here with time running out. Whatever it takes to convince him, you’re prepared to do it.

What you’re not prepared for is the sight you stumble across when you come into the kitchen.

It’s as familiar to you as your own hands, if not actually more so.

Slung across one of the chairs by the kitchen table is your sealskin. Beige with tan spots, resting on the back of the chair like a fancy misplaced ornament, it’s unmistakable.

Your heart lurches as you freeze on the spot, your entire body thrumming with sudden tension.

Your sealskin is right there within reach.

You can’t move.

Your heart is pounding so hard that the rushing of blood in your ears is almost deafening. It makes it sound as if you’re standing right next to the ocean, the sound of the waves coalescing with the frantic beating of your heart. Your sealskin is just _there_. It’s entirely out of place, of course, yet it looks so innocuous and casual with how it adorns the chair.

All you need to do is take two maybe three more steps at the most and you could grab it. Your fingers twitch with the urge to do so and you feel it down to your bones; the aching desire to reunite with your missing part and be whole again. You want to and yet somehow you’re rooted to the spot, your shock rendering you immobile.

“Good morning, gorgeous” Jake’s voice startles you out of your trance and reminds you of his presence before you can shake off your stunned paralysis.

Your gaze flicks up from the skin to where he’s standing by the counter, pouring a cup of coffee, tossing you a small smile over his shoulder like nothing is wrong at all.

“‘Morning,” you mumble back, released from the spell holding you still and captive.

You must have remained blank-faced in your shock, because Jake doesn’t make a remark on it or show any indication that he’s caught your deer-in-headlights moment. He simply sets the coffee down on the kitchen table on the side you’re usually seated as you tentatively move closer.

You know it’s all in your head because it’s never happened before, but you could swear you taste the salty tang of sea water as you sit down and your sealskin is within arm’s reach.

Jake has turned his back to you again, busying himself with pancakes, and that gives you the chance to stare at the skin in disbelief.

Your head is reeling and even though Roxy’s spellwork is painted all over your back and working perfectly, the Call of the Sea sings through your very being. You could reach out and run your fingers through familiar fur. You could snatch it and run, be free and untethered from land once more belonging only to the vast sea, before Jake even has a chance to react.

You could do it. Easy.

You don’t.

In some kind of lingering trance your gaze travels back to him and you observe him as he cooks breakfast. He’s quietly humming some ditty under his breath, nothing out of the ordinary to be found about his posture or his behaviour. He stands there like he always does, save for how he shifts his weight from foot to foot more gingerly which… well, you know damn well what the cause for that is.

When he turns and sets down a plate of pancakes, he tosses you a wink. He’s acting like everything is hunky-dory (as he would say), like the essence of your being — the thing that could determine your fate — isn’t occupying the same space.

He joins you at the table and casually begins piling his plate with food.

You do the same even though food is the very last thing on your mind, limbs moving on auto-pilot as you furtively glance at your skin.

He’s not addressing it and doesn’t seem to have any intention to do so. That leaves it up to you to point out the elephant in the room.

You clear your throat.

“What’s up with that?” You say with a nod towards your skin, proud of yourself when you manage to sound completely casual about your query.

Jake looks up from his pancakes, piercing green eyes meeting yours and betraying absolutely nothing.

“Oh, that ol’ thing?” He says nonchalantly after swallowing a mouthful of pancake. “Halley found it a while back.”

Your eyes slide away down to the kitchen floor where Halley is sprawled out, waiting either to be fed scraps or to be walked. You fight the urge to squint accusingly at him. He just lifts his head and wags his tail once when he notices you’re staring at him, looking back expectantly with big puppy-eyes while licking his lips.

You might not be hungry, but like hell he’s getting any pancakes from you now.

“I put it away and kind of forgot about it,” Jake goes on blithely and your eyes swiftly travel back to him. “It looked like real fur and I meant to have it checked out. Seemed like a bally weird thing to randomly find, you know?”

Your heart is in your throat. Is he lying or has he really had your sealskin this whole time without knowing what it was and that it belongs to you?

He pauses to take another bite of his breakfast and the suspense in the time it takes for him to chew and swallow is excruciating. You’re a hair’s breadth away from lunging for him to grab him by the collar so you can shake him hard while demanding answers.

“I finally remembered I had it and had it checked out yesterday.”

“And?” You prompt when he pauses yet again for a sip of coffee, only barely managing to keep the impatience out of your voice.

“It’s the real deal, alright! A sealskin just lying around, can you believe it? It’s worth a pretty penny I’ve been told.”

Jake’s talking cheerfully and looking oblivious while you sit there, feeling like your whole world has been upended. Again. Could this really be some dumb coincidence? Did Halley come running for you that day because he recognised your scent from your sealskin?

You don’t know what to do or make of this information. You can only fish for more until you stop reeling.

“What do you plan to do with it?” You find yourself asking, mouth moving without much conscious thought behind it.

“Hmm, not sure. I thought of tracking down the owner at first, but it’s probably too late now. They’ve probably long moved on and… well, you know.”

_I’ll be leaving_ he doesn’t say. You get it either way.

You nod numbly and you think to claim that it’s yours, but that’s probably not going to be believable. Why would a backpacker be carrying around a sealskin? That’s not going to fly.

Unless you tell him what you are.

Your mind instantly shies away from that thought. With your skin there, you could easily prove it, but… it’s not like you haven’t heard the horror stories of how some humans have reacted upon discovering there’s a whole hidden world out there. It’s not that you fear how he’s going to react to you. Jake wouldn’t hurt you, you don’t think. Not intentionally. It’s that it’s not just about you. Revealing the truth about yourself means exposing the existence of everyone else remaining.

You love Jake, you can admit that much, but you’re not sure how much you trust him. He can be so startlingly oblivious and naive. What if he accidentally blabs to the wrong person? You could easily see that happening. You don’t want to be responsible for such a thing.

Or, quite possibly, you’re just thinking of excuses because you’re absolutely terrified of how you feel.

Although entertaining such thoughts is futile. Jake indirectly pointed it out just now: he’s leaving.

At least you can part on good terms and this whole thing hasn’t been some sort of manipulative sham. You can snatch your skin at the first available opportunity and say your goodbyes, no hard feelings or anything.

It should come as a relief.

For some reason it doesn’t feel that way.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

Jake’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you don’t realise you’ve been zoning out until you glance down and notice you haven’t touched your food at all. No wonder Jake sounds concerned.

“Sorry. Just spacing out, I guess,” you say, hastily taking a bite and ignoring his worried eyes on you.

Chewing and swallowing takes more effort than it should, getting anything past the tightness settled in your throat is a struggle. You force yourself to eat anyway. This could be the last time you ever eat pancakes made by him, after all.

You help Jake clear the dishes and it’s routine as usual save for the burning awareness of your sealskin. You could so easily grab it whenever he’s not looking and there’s even an opportunity to grab and hide it away when he goes to the bathroom. You could blame the sudden disappearance on Halley.

Yet you don’t do it.

You remain oddly indecisive. It gets even worse when he gets a text and reluctantly tells you he’ll be popping out for a sec to bring Jane to the airport at her insistence. It means you’re left alone in the house with your sealskin.

It’s your perfect chance.

You should text or call Roxy and tell her what’s happened and that you’ve found your skin. You should take it and leave, write a letter for Jake to find and spare you both the heartbreak of having to say goodbye face-to-face. You could end it all neatly right then and there.

Instead you do what you what you normally do when you have the house to yourself. You occupy yourself by tidying up. The only difference now is that your feet occasionally carry you to the kitchen where you stand and just stare at your skin, not touching it even though every fiber of your being urges you to do so.

Your own indecision vexes you greatly.

All this time you’ve wanted nothing more than to find your skin, to have your ticket back home returned to you. Now that you have it, you find that you don’t really want to go home even though you know you’ll eventually have to. Jake is leaving and with him goes your main reason for staying. Of course you’d come back to visit Roxy and Callie, but you’re going to lose the sense of home he’s given you.

Still, you remain.

By the time Jake gets back, the skin is still where he left it and you’ve cleaned the place spic and span in your agitation. You’re left feeling distinctly like ouroboros, eating your own tail. Outside there’s a storm starting to brew and it feels like the perfect reflection of your inner conflict.

He seems glad to see you, his meeting with Jane probably harrowing after the ultimatum she set, and greets you warmly, unnecessarily inviting you to go along with him for Halley’s afternoon walk before the rain starts falling. Of course you go, fool that you are for letting all these perfect chances slip right through your fingers.

It’s during the walk that he finally brings up the subject that you’ve been expecting when you rolled out of bed that morning. It seems ages ago now.

“You can stay in the home after I leave if you want,” he speaks up quietly, barely audible over the wind and seemingly apropos of nothing. “Although I imagine a wild vagabond such as yourself would be feeling the itch to move on by now.”

It’s a generous offer, to be sure.

Almost kind of tempting were it not for the fact that it’s meaningless without the company there to make the home what it is. If you were to remain behind alone, you’ll be constantly faced with reminders of his absence and you’d only miss him more. What use is a hearth without a fire to provide warmth?

You can’t do it. When he leaves, it will be time for you to go home as well.

“Thanks, but you’re right.” Your voice sounds dull and monotone to your own ears. “I should probably get back on track, go on to Ireland like I meant to.”

He nods and doesn’t say anything else. He only takes your hand in his and holds on tightly.

Bringing the topic of your impending separation up leaves you both in a somber mood for the rest of the afternoon even though Jake does his best to carry on like usual. What he manages is impressive, but neither of you are fooled.

You find yourself wistfully thinking about ways to make it work, to try for a long distance relationship or to even follow him to America, but since he doesn’t bring up any such thing and you’re left doubting that he would want that. It’s not like you two ever defined what’s going on between you. You’ve gone on dates and you’ve had sex, but… you’re not quite boyfriends, are you? Nothing has been said about being in a committed relationship.

Jake probably always expected this to be a temporary thing and it’s not like you could carry on hiding what you are from him forever. You don’t want that.

You wouldn’t be true to yourself and you’d be deceiving him to some extent.

It’s not meant to be, you tell yourself. He’s human and you’re a creature of the sea. You don’t want to end up like some of Roxy’s clients have, having to hide or even being hunted because they trusted the wrong person.

It’s best you both get on with your respective lives. You’ll at least have some good memories to look back on and that’s the best someone like you can hope for.

When evening falls, you declare it your turn to make dinner and when you move into the kitchen, you finally give in to the itch in your fingers. You touch your sealskin, fingertips tracing some of the spots. You make up your mind to leave tonight, leave Jake a letter and sneak out so you don’t have to draw this awful lead-up to your inevitable seperation out.

“That’s yours, isn’t it?”

You nearly do a cartoonish jump at the unexpected sound of a voice behind you. Fortunately you manage to turn your initial startle into a fast pivot on your heel and an uncanny green gaze meets yours.

Jake’s standing there, expression utterly unreadable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you again for the wonderful comments y'all have been leaving me, they're a shining light in a rough holiday season. I promise there will be answers in the next chapter!


	8. between belief, between the seas

Your heart does a weird flip in your chest and your breathing picks up. It’s the sort of bodily response you’re used to getting when you come face to face with sharks. Except you know what to do when coming across sharks, here you freeze up and you don’t know what to do at all.

“What?” You hear yourself ask, unaware that yours lips have moved.

“The skin,” he says softly, tilting his head slightly in its direction without taking his eyes off you. His face remains a terrifying blank to you. You can’t read him at all.

But he _does_ know. The question alone indicates as much.

The realisation comes with a tide of emotions threatening to swallow you whole. Your fight-or-flight response kicking in provides you the edge you need to you squash it all down and match his inscrutable expression.

“What do you know of it?” You hedge, unwilling to give him an answer until you know exactly what he knows. Even then you might not be inclined to give him one. Like with the sharks, all your instincts are telling you to run.

He stares at you and you stare back. If this is turning out to be some sort of weird stand-off, you’re not about to give in so easily. He’s between you and the exit, but you’re more than willing to stare him down. If it comes down to it, you can thrown down if you have to.

Your heart beats like a deafening drum in your ears as the silence stretches out between you.

Then, all at once, his expression seems to collapse in on itself and you’re the unanimous winner of the impromptu staring contest as he glances away, down at his feet, while he bites down on his bottom lip. A sure sign of uncertainty.

“I’m sorry,” he says and you’re thrown for a loop by both the words and the miserable tone in which he says them.

This whole situation is so very confusing and beyond your control, it’s almost funny.

When you say nothing in your stunned surprise, he goes on after a quick glance up at you before addressing his feet again.

“I should have given it back.”

He knew. He fucking knew.

The need to flee leaves you, the primal instinct in the face of potential danger snuffed out like a candle in the wind, leaving you to face the rising swell of emotions in the dark.

“How long have you known?” It’s the first coherent question to occur to you and leave your mouth, your voice coming out cold and devoid of emotion; a sharp contrast to the turmoil starting to bubble over inside.

“Um, it’s not so much that I knew, per say,” he starts haltingly. “More like I suspected?”

You narrow your eyes at him, causing him to flinch when he chances a glance up at you.

“ _How?_ ” It comes out hard, not quite a snap. Just enough of one to garner another flinch.

Jake’s apparent meekness doesn’t match the situation at hand at all. How could he have suspected? How does he know about creatures like you? Is he continuing to deceive you by acting the way he is?

“It was Janey, really,” he says, shoulders hunching together. “She was suspicious of where you came from and after she couldn’t find anything about you, she consequently became suspicious of… well, what you are.”

You blink hard. It doesn’t surprise you to find out that Jane did some research on you. It’s smart and sensible of her. You can hardly fault her for doing it, she was looking out for Jake and she was right to do it. What you don’t get is that latter part.

“... Why?” You wonder aloud.

“It’s rather a long tale, I’m afraid,” he says and you interpret it as dodging. It must show on your face because he hastily goes on after seeing your expression. “Not that I would mind telling you, of course! But the gist of it is that Crockercorp has had… shall we say, _dealings_ with a sea-dwelling witch before.”

So that’s how she knew. You wouldn’t have thought Jane would just believe like that, skeptical and down to earth as she comes across. It makes sense if she’s been confronted by magical ilk before.

“She put two and two together when we were going through grandma’s stuff and she saw the skin where I put it for safekeeping. I thought it was a cockamamie tale at first,” he tells you guiltily.

You realise where this is going.

“But the skin checked out,” you finish for him.

“Yes, indeed it did.”

Your mind grapples to make sense of the situation, to put it neatly on the spectrum from stupid coincidence to mindful manipulation when Jake cuts across your thoughts.

“Dirk, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, eyes shining as he regards you with a silent plea in his gaze. “I should have given it to you the moment she told me.”

Giving it to you or just asking you would have been the quickest way for him to find out instead of going to verify whether or not the sealskin is an actual sealskin. That begs the question...

“Why didn’t you?”

He’s wringing his hands now, gaze darting away from you and back again. He hems and haws on the spot and you don’t budge, staring him down and waiting him out.

“I didn’t want you to go,” he eventually confesses in a rushed mumble.

That implies his suspicions were stronger and he’s been putting off getting them confirmed for who knows how long. You’re tempted to ask when exactly he and Jane were going through his grandma’s stuff, but you also don’t care to know. It doesn’t matter how long he’s known, it comes down to one thing.

“So you kept it despite knowing what doing so means for me.”

He opens his mouth, closes it again, then nods. His guilty expression says enough.

“And leaving it out today was what? A test?” You ask curtly, some of your suppressed anger seeping through in your voice.

“No, no! No such thing. It was more… er, curiosity, I suppose,” he falters, you hope it’s because he knows how ludicrous that sounds.

“Curiosity,” you echo blankly, unconvinced and unimpressed.

“Look, it’s not... I’m sorry, alright?”

You can’t do this.

You need to think this over and sort out your maelstrom of feelings before you can respond to all of this properly. Any knee-jerk reaction you have right now you’re likely going to regret later.

Your fingers curl into your sealskin and you tug it off the chair.

Jake’s eyes widen with fear.

“Dirk, wait—”

“I need time to think,” you tell him, moving to brush past him.

From the corner of your eye, you see him reach for you with fingers outstretched and then think better of it, wincing back as you pass.

You refuse to look at his face, not wanting to see his expression, and let your feet carry you outside while you clutch your sealskin tight against your chest. You step out into the rain, the storm going full-force now, and you take no heed of the buffeting winds and the angry waves cresting beside you as you make your way along the shore.

You simply walk.

 

* * *

 

You end up huddled in a small outcropping of cliffs, your clothes entirely soaked through and with your bare feet pressed into wet sand. You’re numb with cold. Your human body isn’t made for these conditions.

Technically you could don your skin and dive beneath the waves, go deep until you find stillness again. You’d be much warmer, too.

But the storm suits your mood just fine. The furious waves and howling winds feel like an outward reflection of your inner turmoil still. The numbness of your cold skin makes it easy to tune out the relentless rain and the uncomfortable cling of wet fabric to your frame.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

Truth be told, you’re not sure why you haven’t put on your skin yet.

It’s another subject to agonise over and ruminate on, but most of your thoughts are occupied with Jake and the revelation that he knows what you are and what he’s done. You briefly think about texting or calling Roxy though you’re quick to dismiss the idea and not just because you find out you left your phone back at Jake’s place.

Your mind is spinning circles and you realise your body has started shaking hard when the sound of your own teeth chattering draws you out of your thoughts. You figure it’s time to cut the dramatics and get into the water.

You lift your sealskin from your lap and rise to your feet, ignoring your protesting knees, and begin peeling off your clothes. Just as you’re about to pull down your boxer briefs, you notice a bobbing light appear down by Jake’s house.

… Is Jake seriously going out in this godawful storm?

You figured the storm would afford you some time to be on your own and think and that Jake wouldn’t be so stupid as to try and follow you. As you watch the light move to the tiny dock below the lighthouse, you realise you figured wrong.

Shit.

There’s no way you can reach him in time and stop him from where you’re standing, not even if you are to travel through the sea. The light is already moving onto the water.

The ridiculous idiot got in the small rowing boat that was anchored to the dock. It’s tiny and old and stands absolutely no chance against the waves beating against the shore.

Your heart is gripped with fear and you’ve stepped out of your boxers before you’re even fully aware of it. The fear takes a sharp turn and becomes panic when the light suddenly disappears beneath a big wave.

You slide your skin around your shoulders and you hurl yourself into the sea without further thought.

You’re only vaguely aware of something fizzling on your skin as you dive — Roxy’s spell being nullified, you think distantly — and you ignore the euphoria singing in your veins as the sea welcomes you home after so long apart. Although the rough waves work against you, you pay them no heed and torpedo through the water. At least in your natural form, the storm isn’t of that huge a consequence and down here you can see clear as day, better than on land even.

Finding Jake is easy then, the figure sinking down from the silhouette of the capsized boat is all you need to see.

Adrenaline spurs you on, pure fear pumping through your arteries, and you act with nary a thought.

The moment you reach Jake, you grab hold by letting your teeth sink into the back of his shirt and you swim fast. A wave helps you carry him to shore, but from there it’s something of a struggle in your seal form to drag him further to safer, drier ground where the waves don’t reach. The adrenaline has given you a boost, but you have to shift halfway there to have the utility of your much more useful arms.

The moment you’re out of reach of the waves, you sink down to your knees by his side. To your horror, you realise he’s not breathing.

You’ve seen people administer CPR before and you draw on those memories, frantically mimicking what you’ve witnessed. Luckily for you, you don’t have to do much. A few presses to his chest and he’s already stirring and coughing up water.

“ _Jake_ ,” you call out urgently, panic laced through your voice and pitching it higher, as you take hold of his face.

He groans, eyes fluttering opening and slowly focusing on you.

Relief floods you, your held breath leaving you in a loud puff of air as you sit back on your heels. You’re shaking more from the rush of adrenaline leaving you than the actual cold as you slip your skin off your shoulders, moving it to cover your lap and provide some semblance of decency as you sit stark naked on the beach.

Jake is staring at you with wide eyes.

Suddenly your relief turns sharply to anger.

“What the everloving fuck were you thinking?” You snap, your tone not coming out quite as harsh as you intended due to the fact that you’re trembling too much.

Jake gingerly pushes himself upright and you have to resist the urge to push him back down, worry still gnawing at you despite your swell of anger.

“Dirk...”

That’s all he says, weakly, as he keeps staring at you in… shock, you think. He must be in shock. No surprise there, he nearly drowned. You need to get him back to the house, get him warm, and— get help, preferably. Maybe call Jane or Roxy. They’ll know what to do.

Before you can get your rattling frame to stand up, there’s suddenly a vice grip on your wrist, rooting you to the spot. You glance up to see Jake, eyes welling up with tears.

… Oh no.

“Dirk,” he repeats, choking on your name with a sob.

Your anger leaves you as quick as it had come and you’re left feeling guilty for getting mad in the first place. He just had a potentially near brush with death and here you are berating him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you reach and grip his shoulder, offering (what you hope is) a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, you’re okay,” you murmur weakly.

It doesn’t help. His lip wobbles and then the flood gates are opened, not even the torrential rain can hide the tears. You get a glimpse of his anguished expression before he throws himself at you, arms wrapping around your shoulders. You’re awkwardly squashed against him and have to wriggle your arm free where it gets uncomfortably wedged between you.

Jake is full-on sobbing now.

You have no idea what to do other than gingerly move your arms around him. You try patting and stroking his back and you try murmuring words of comfort to him, but he seems utterly inconsolable as he clings to you. You have no choice but to wait it out and just hold him.

You don’t know how much time passes until he finally stills. Just that once he does, you’re at that point where you no longer feel your fingers and toes. It’s so fucking cold. The temptation to shift for the sole purpose of getting some warmth back in your body is strong. Not that you could do it with Jake holding on so tight.

You can feel him shaking against you and you really need to get him inside. Having apparently cried and tired himself out, he offers little resistance when you gently push him back enough so you can look at him.

“What was that about?” You ask gently as you can with your teeth chattering, searching his face. He’s a total mess, drenched and puffy-faced. He has to squint to look at you, his glasses likely lost to sea.

It’s the wrong question to ask. His lip trembles dangerously again and you quickly make a shushing sound, rubbing his arms desperately.

“I’ve lost you,” he croaks. His hoarse voice makes you flinch.

“What? I’m right here, dude,” you reassure him, confused.

He shakes his head, chest hiccuping with a tiny after-sob, and he inclines his head. You follow his gaze down to your lap to see that he’s staring at your sealskin with a pained look on his face.

“But you can’t come back now,” he says, only causing your confusion to grow.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s how the legend goes, doesn’t it? You can’t come back for seven blasted years,” he speaks forlornly, meeting your gaze with sad eyes.

… Oh. Oh, for the love of—

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read or hear,” you snort mirthlessly. If it weren’t for Jake’s obvious distress, you might have laughed. It’s such a ridiculous misunderstanding.

“What?” He blinks at you, face scrunching up in bewilderment.

“Look, I’ll explain, but let’s get inside first. I’m fuckin’ freezing,” you say resolutely, more than done with sitting here with your nude ass in the wet sand. You’re starting to lose feeling in your paltry behind too.

Jake doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jake,” you reassure him. “C’mon.”

You get to your feet and secure your sealskin around your waist in a makeshift skirt before you help him up. Noticing how unsteady he is, you get him to sling an arm around your shoulders and support him as you walk back to the house.

The moment you get inside, you make a beeline for the shower where you methodically help Jake get out of his soaked clothes. You retrieve a stool for him to sit on and you work on getting him warmed up again, rubbing life back into his limbs with the aid of the hot water.

Although you promised him an explanation, you work in silence as you scrub the salt off your skins and let the heat of the shower warm you both. He seems fine with that, he’s gone silent and as limp as a doll, probably completely exhausted.

It’s not until you can feel your extremities again and his lips have stopped looking blue that you turn the water off and work on getting the both of you dry and dressed in comfy loose-fitting clothes. You leave your sealskin in the bathroom where Halley can’t get to it. With that done you usher him downstairs and get him settled on the couch before briefly disappearing into the kitchen to make tea.

When you have two mugs filled, you join him on the couch and finally settle down to explain.

“The seven-year thing is just a myth,” you start and his tired eyes flick up from his mug to meet your gaze. “It’s true there’s a sort of… pull, I guess, that urges me back to the sea that gets stronger the longer I stay on land. I can imagine that it drove selkies who were forced to stay into not wanting to return for years if they found a chance to return. People just have a weird obsession with making the number seven relevant in as many stories as possible.”

“... So you’ve been suffering this whole time?” His voice is small, miserable.

You’re quick to shake your head.

“No, I’ve had some help.”

At his confused stare, you turn around and lift your shirt enough to expose some of your lower back. You hear his sharp intake of breath.

“Your tattoo is gone,” he mumbles, puzzled.

“It wasn’t a tattoo. It was a spell to make staying here easier,” you explain as you let your shirt fall back in place and turn around to face him again. “Perks of knowing the best witch in town.”

You can practically see the dawning realisation on his face.

“Roxy,” he says in an awed hush.

You nod and watch him blink owlishly.

“Oh. Um, wow. So you’re alright then? You don’t have to vanish off into the sea or anything?”

“I’m fine. And no, I don’t have to go anywhere.”

You see him look pensive and then breathe out slowly, tension draining out of him.

“Good, that is a real, right relief,” he says, the sincerity palpable in both his voice and face before he winches and looks completely sheepish, red staining his cheeks. “Gosh, I sure kicked up such a fuss over nothing then.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him, trying and failing not to think about the fact you’re kind of touched that he cares that much. “But why did you go out in the storm like that?”

You can see the flush rise up to his ears and spill down his neck and he avoids meeting your gaze.

“Um, I would think that’s obvious, don’t you?”

“Not really,” you deadpan as you narrow your eyes at him.

He abruptly jerks his head up, squinting right back at you as if to determine whether you’re serious or not (you are) and then he sucks in a breath.

“Because I love you, you big galoot,” he blurts out, the words coming out frustrated and tinged with embarrassment. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I couldn’t let you leave and let things end like that.”

“... Oh,” you say dumbly. You think your heart might have stopped beating in your chest, you can’t hear it anymore. All you can hear are his words echoing in your head.

“Darn right “ _oh_ ”!” He shoots back at you before his bluster and bravado leave him promptly, causing his shoulders to sag and for him to duck in on himself a little.

“Think what you will, but I truly am sorry, Dirk. I never meant to hurt you,” he continues quietly, eyes drifting downward.

Words are failing you right now and your throat seems to have stopped functioning. All you can think to do is reach out, take his hand, and squeeze his fingers in a desperate attempt to convey “ _I love you too_ ” to him nonverbally.

You don’t know if you succeed entirely, but he perks up and meets your gaze with a hopeful look in his eyes. When you nod, he smiles.

The sight alone is like a balm to your very soul, easing the tightness in your chest enough that you can find your voice again.

“It’s late,” you manage to say though your voice comes out rough with emotion. “We should go to bed. Talk more in the morning.”

He nods, clearly relieved, and you both drink your tea. When you’re done and moving the mugs to the sink, you come across your abandoned phone on the kitchen counter, filled with concerned messages from Roxy.

Urging Jake to go on ahead, you stay downstairs to fire back some reassurances and you tell her that everything is fine now and you’ll explain it all in the morning. She’s not too happy about having to wait until morning for an explanation, but she mercifully takes your word for it.

You go upstairs and go through the usual nightly ritual, feeling lighter yet also completely drained. When you step out of the bathroom, Jake is standing in his doorway, waiting for you.

“Will you come to bed?” He asks, almost shyly.

You get that he’s asking if you’ll still join him in his bed and you nod, not even bothering to pretend to hesitate. He gives you a tiny, warm smile and you follow him into his bedroom where you slide under the covers, coming face to face with him as you both settle.

He scoots closer and leans in before stopping himself. His eyes are scanning your face questioningly, looking for signs of rejection or approval. You decide to lean in those last few inches and just kiss him. He makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat that has you instantly pressing closer almost instinctively, sliding an arm around him.

It remains a chaste kiss but it’s a lingering one, full of unspoken things that you can’t quite get yourself to say. When you eventually part, he immediately snuggles closer. For a second everything feels alright.

Until you remember that Jake is leaving.

You shy away from the thought and the sadness it brings with it, instead closing your eyes and focusing on the rise and fall of Jake’s chest against you.

At least you’re exhausted enough that sleep is quick to claim you.

 

* * *

 

For all intents and purposes, the next morning is the same as many that have come before it. You go through the same motions, sit at the same table, eat a breakfast that’s been made before. There’s nothing new, no break in the morning routine, except there’s a distinct shift between you and Jake that feels like a tangible thing in the air.

You can tell that he’s curious and holding himself back from asking you questions. You, on the other hand, carry around the painful awareness of the fact the ‘L’ word has been dropped and you don’t know how to handle it one bit. There’s still some residual anger (or perhaps it’s just confusion?) that you don’t know what to do with either too. Neither of you broach the subjects weighing on your minds as you go about the start of your day.

You find distraction when Roxy texts you, demanding the explanation you promised to give her. It gives you an idea.

“Would you still like to meet Roxy?” You ask Jake.

You figure he might not want to what with part of his family having had a bad experience with a witch before, but he surprises you when positively beams at the question and tells you yes, very much so.

You text Roxy a general gist of the situation (you found your skin, Jake’s not the bad guy) and ask her to come over, having to tell her that no, no cursing necessary, thanks again for the offer. It will help to have her over, you think. If only for emotional support.

While you wait for her to get here, you figure that you can play something of a game in the meantime: a lightning round of trading questions. Something to clear the air with.

Jake eagerly agrees with the suggestion and you let him go first.

“What’s it like being a selkie?”

It’s a bit of a loaded question and you have to pause to consider it. It’s not as if you truly know how to be anything else. You have some reference from all the time you’ve spent on land moving among humans and absorbing their cultures, but it’s not like you were born and raised one.

“Lonely,” is what you end up going with and you elaborate when Jake tilts his head quizzically. “I’ve never met another selkie. I think I might be the last of my kind. Or one of, anyway.”

You expect to see that dreadful sympathy (or worse, pity) on his face when you glance up at him. That’s not the case. Although he looks a little saddened, he merely nods thoughtfully. It’s strange.

“You don’t look surprised,” you point out in an even tone and watch him shrug his shoulders.

“You’ve always had this look about you that I recognised. Of course it’s not at all like your situation, but I do know a thing or two about solitude.”

He offers you a tiny, wry smile and you believe him.

“So you’ve known about the existence of magic for a while?” You ask, claiming your turn.

“Oh, yes. I can’t say I know as much as I perhaps ought to. Janey probably knows more and since my grandma helped her family out, I suspect she knew a great deal but she never talked much about what was going on. I reckon we were too young and she wanted to protect us. She always told such wondrous stories though. Fairy tales and the like.”

He sounds so very wistful and sad as he talks about his grandma, it almost distracts you from the niggling suspicion that his last sentence brings with it. You play fair and wait your turn though.

“Does it hurt? Changing?”

Not really a question you were expecting. It’s so innocent and his face holds obvious traces of concern, you can’t help feeling endeared. Damn him.

“No. It’s as simple as putting on and taking off a shirt. It’s hard to describe how the actual shift feels, but there’s no pain involved.”

He downright beams at you in relief and you curse your heart for the little somersault it does in your chest. It makes you feel guilty for the question you have in mind next. Regardless, you have to know.

“Did you really not know when you picked up my sealskin?”

You keep your face and tone of voice as neutral as possible, not wanting to sound accusatory and have Jake go on the defensive and get evasive with you. It wipes the smile off his face nonetheless as he hesitates.

“Know is a strong word. Like I said, it was more of a suspicion,” he starts, avoiding your gaze. Before you can point out that’s what he said in relation to Jane pointing it out and not immediately after Halley found the skin, he’s already chiming up again. “Wait, no. It’s more that I hoped it was real? To be fair, I was expecting a pretty dame to show up, not a gorgeous gent like you! I thought only girls could summon male selkies.”

What you get from all that is that he wasn’t entirely honest before and you should be mad about that. Instead you forget about the little question for a question game you’re technically playing and blurt out another question before you can think better of it.

“Would you have preferred that?” No matter how blasé you try to pose it, there’s no hiding the insecurity behind the query itself.

It causes Jake to look back up at you with a startled expression.

“By Jove, no. I meant it when I said you were the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Dirk.”

You feel a little mollified and also flustered by the bold statement thrown out with no hesitation whatsoever. It doesn’t entirely erase your wariness, however. The game goes completely forgotten as you set about getting the whole truth out of him.

“So you had my skin this entire time and when you got it, you were actually hoping it belonged to a selkie, only you didn’t think it was me until Jane connected the dots?” You ask skeptically.

“More or less. I didn’t quite believe it until then,” he goes along with it, too easily.

“Or you didn’t _want_ to believe it until then,” you press, relentless.

For a split second he looks like he’s about to protest only to shut his mouth and meekly nod, leaving his head hanging guiltily. There it is then. Wilful ignorance sounds about right for Jake English and what you’ve learned of him, having lived in close quarters and seen how (badly) he dealt with Jane.

You don’t quite know how to feel. You highly doubt he ever even went and ‘verified’ the skin. It doesn’t sound like it was needed and that Jane was the catalyst for Jake having to confront the reality of the situation.

“All this time you could have just asked.” Your voice comes out oddly even for how troubled you feel. There’s some anger to be found in you, likely born out of hurt at his deceit, but it’s not the sharp sting of betrayal you were expecting to feel.

“I know,” he admits ruefully and, to your surprise, he doesn’t try to make any excuses for it.

An uncomfortable silence falls between you in which neither of you look at each other. You can see him chewing his bottom lip from the corner of your eye in the way he always does when he’s anxious while you try to sort out what your emotions are doing.

It’s Jake who eventually breaks it, clearing his throat and drawing your attention.

“Right, my turn,” he says with a nervous chuckle, plowing right on just as you realise he’s talking about the game you were playing. “Would you go with me?”

“Go where?”

“To America,” he speaks quickly and with a hint of desperation, not giving you time to process. “I know I’m a no-good coward and you probably don’t trust me now. Rightfully so! But please, give me a chance to make it right? Or make it up to you, whichever. You stick to coasts, don’t you? Let me show you the world.”

You’re taken aback and the first response that occurs to you doesn’t fit the gravity of the situation in the slightest.

“... Shining, shimmering, splendid?” You say it anyway.

Jake blinks at you, a sure sign you managed to take him off-guard with your silly reference (his own fault for showing you Disney movies, really), and then bursts out laughing.

Before you can formulate a proper response or ask him for details for what he has in mind by taking you with him, the doorbell rings. Bless Roxy and her perfect timing.

“I’ll think about it,” you say as you hastily slip away from the kitchen table, fleeing before you can catch a glimpse of his expression. You’re definitely going to need time to consider it and figure out the logistics of such a trip.

Roxy standing on the doorstep is a sight for sore eyes and you’re content to let her hug you when you open the door and greet her. The exaggerated smack of lips pressed to your cheek you could do without though.

You usher her inside and don’t get very far when Halley comes over to inspect the visitor. You tense, ready to get between the dog and Roxy to fend off Halley’s usual exuberant way of greeting people.

It’s entirely unnecessary.

Halley approaches at a sedated pace, head kept low and tail wagging slowly. It’s not anything like how he usually acts and his body language strikes you as weirdly deferential.

“Oh, why hi there,” Roxy says, her interest clearly piqued as she promptly drops her bag to the floor (you can hear the suspicious clinking of glass coming from it) and crouches down in front of Halley, offering her hand to him.

You watch in confusion as Halley sniffs it and proceeds to lean his head into her hand. It’s so eerily calm for him and you know for a fact that Roxy is more of a cat person. Your confusion only grows as Roxy speaks to him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she murmurs quietly, scratching his ear sympathetically.

You open your mouth to give voice to your state of ‘what the fuck’ only to be cut off by Jake emerging from the kitchen.

“Salutations, miss Roxy! Dirk’s told me many great things about you.”

Roxy’s head snaps up and you catch the slight narrowing of her eyes in a blink-and-you-miss-it sort of moment before she grins cheerfully.

“And you, Mr. English,” she says in a joking, jovial tone to match his.

You pick her bag up and stare at her pointedly when hitching the strap over your shoulders produces more glass-clinking sounds. She shoots you an innocent smile and lets herself be guided into the kitchen by Jake, away from your judging gaze.

Jake’s playing the perfect host and he and Roxy seem to be hitting it off well enough. You know better though. Roxy’s not one to let things go easily. You all end up sitting around the kitchen table with coffee and cookies Jane left Jake. Once pleasantries and small talk are out of the way, you explain everything that happened the day before to Roxy. Jake at least has the decency to act sheepish about it all.

You’re only interrupted when Halley comes wandering into the kitchen, softly whining. When Jake laments he still needs his walk, it’s Roxy who immediately jumps on the chance.

“Why don’t you go?” She asks, staring right at you.

You know exactly what she’s playing at and you’re not sure if you want to leave her alone with Jake when she has questionable things in her bag.

“Roxy,” you say with a sigh, eyeing her warily.

“Go on, shoo. How else are we supposed to talk about you behind your back if you’re sticking around?”

When Jake also reassures you that it’s fine, you eventually relent and go, fervently hoping you’re not making a mistake by leaving Jake at Roxy’s mercy. You’ll just have to keep Halley’s walk on the shorter side.

As you walk, your worries fade and your mind turns towards contemplating Jake’s proposal to go with him. It’s actually more tempting than it should be given everything that’s happened and has been revealed. You’ve always wanted to go more inland, but never dared to stray too far from the coasts. It’s not as if you’re making a huge commitment if you go with him. The fact that the oceans cover more of the Earth’s surface than land works to your advantage, you can always escape to the sea if you absolutely need to.

Not that you think you will have to since Jake doesn’t seem intent on trapping you and that’s not what this is really about anyway and you know it.

This is about your heart foolishly going for ‘yes’ while your sensible mind is saying ‘fuck no’.

You cogitate about that and while you’re out, you decide to make a game attempt at retrieving the clothes you left on the beach last night. By some miracle you find your pants, but the rest has disappeared, probably left to get washed up and found by some unfortunate soul.

With the crusty sand-covered jeans in hand and Halley gleefully bounding by your side, you start on the way back, trying to come to a decision.

Returning to Jake’s home, you fortunately find him unharmed by Roxy as far as you can tell. You hear their combined laughter as you step inside and they look like they’re getting along just fine when you come into the kitchen.

“Well, I’ve gotten everything I want out of this,” she declares when she sees you, getting up.

You raise both your eyebrows at her, suspicion meter off the charts.

“That’s not at all ominous,” you comment lightly.

“Don’t be like that, Di-Stri. Nothing to fuss about,” she confidently tells you and you’re not sure if you should believe her. “It was lovely meeting you, Jake.”

“Likewise, madam!”

You walk Roxy to the door after she says goodbye to both Jake and Halley where she turns to you after she’s finished putting her coat back on.

“You could have done worse,” she tells you with a grin, patting your shoulder.

“That’s reassuring, thanks,” you deadpan, your gratitude at her implied approval only making itself known in how you dutifully tilt your head closer when she leans in to kiss your cheek again. You kind of have to wonder what she and Jake talked about for him to apparently win her over in some way, but you won’t pry. You feel lighter either way.

“I better hear from you again soon, ’kay?”

“You will,” you promise and indulge her in another hug before she goes on her way.

“She truly is one swell gal, that Roxy,” Jake calls out from behind you once she’s left.

“Yeah.”

“She cares about you a lot.”

You know that, Roxy makes it impossible for you not to, but all the same it brings a little warmth to your chest to hear.

“She’s the best person I know,” you say, painfully honest.

Maybe that’s not the right thing to say when it comes to a… sort-of-boyfriend-maybe, but Jake just smiles warmly and nods his understanding.

From there on out you carry on with the day more or less like usual. Although there’s a tension in the air rife with expectations, Jake doesn’t press you for an answer nor does he try hinting at it or even ask you anymore personal questions. He gives you plenty space to consider and thankfully doesn’t touch you either. (You suspect you might be quick to cave if he were to do so.) He just helps you launder your clothes and cooks for you.

Despite the awkward atmosphere, the usual tedium of it all is a comfort to you as you keep mulling it over. A part of you is convinced that you should grab your sealskin and leave. It would serve him right for his deceit. Except you’d be hurting yourself just as much as you’d be hurting him and you’re not sure if you can bring yourself to be quite that spiteful. Another part of you desperately doesn’t want to give this up, wants to stay with him and is willing to follow him if that’s what it takes. Turns out love really does make you blind and you’re a hopeless romantic fool.

By evening you finally come to a decision.

You take your sealskin from the bathroom, clutching it to your chest as you compulsively run your thumb over the fur, and you go to him.

Jake freezes the moment he sees you, his face kept a careful blank as he gazes at you.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

For all that he’s adopted a calm demeanour, you know he’s afraid. He wipes his palm against the fabric of his seasonally inappropriate shorts and licks his lips, but says nothing in response.

You suck in a breath and steel yourself to commit.

Your sharp mind has kept you alive so far. It’s what helped and allowed you to survive this long, being what you are. For once you want to know what it’s like to truly be alive and not merely surviving, to no longer be so alone, if only for a little while longer.

“I’ll go with you.”


	9. I am between love

Things turn into a bit of a whirlwind as you prepare for the journey to come. You know that Jake isn’t looking forward to what he has to do in America, but that’s almost easy to forget with how he throws himself into packing with such gusto and elated enthusiasm after your agreement, you would think he’s about to embark on some great vacation instead of having been forced to return to a company he’s supposed to be running.

That you’re the reason for his complete change in attitude towards the trip is a little overwhelming if you stop to think about it for too long. You’d much rather focus on your own preparations instead of how it brings the stirring of warm fuzzies.

You don’t have a whole lot to pack. All the belongings you’ve been accumulating are still meager enough to all fit in a backpack that Jake gives you. It doesn’t make the act of packing any less interesting to you. You’ve never done it like this. You’ve swam and you’ve stowed away on boats to travel before, never carrying much and always leaving things behind. It’s a distinctly different feeling to have stuff to pack and Jake actually makes sure you have things to pack. He takes you shopping for toiletries (you have more fun picking out soaps and little bottles of shampoo than you care to admit) and lets you steal some of his shirts.

Jake even buys you a lovely satchel bag to put your sealskin in so you can keep it close to you at all times in an inconspicuous manner if you so wish. It helps you feel more at ease.

With the deadline so close, you get all the shopping and packing done in a day, and for the next you have a visit to Roxy and Callie planned for the _real_ preparations on your part. You’re going to need magical assistance if you want to stay on land. Plus a passport and you could do with some tips on how to deal with flying.

Roxy tells you to bring Jake along so you do.

On the way there, you tell him about Callie and not to be startled by her appearance. To your vague bemusement, he seems excited to meet her more than anything. With his ready acceptance of the magical, you really shouldn’t be surprised. You can’t help being a little bit wary on Callie’s behalf though.

It’s a wariness that turns out to be uncalled for when Jake’s immediately enamored by Calliope, indeed excited to meet her but fortunately staying respectful. It takes no time at all for Callie to come out of her shell and stop half-hiding behind the corners of walls or Roxy. Before you know it, you’re watching them seated together on the couch and talking eagerly about some movie series with endeared amusement.

Roxy takes that moment as an opportunity to pull you away to her “Totally Rad Magic Room” though not before you catch her soft expression as she’s watching Jake and Callie; likely a reflection of your own before you catch yourself.

As you take off your shirt and take a seat in the circle, you can’t help asking the question that’s been on your mind since her visit to Jake’s house while she flits about, grabbing and mixing ingredients.

“So, what made you change your mind about him?”

You hear her hum thoughtfully and she doesn’t answer right away, too preoccupied. You wait for an answer as you observe her grabbing some things you’re pretty sure she didn’t use the last two times she applied the spell.

“He’s just as besotted with you as you are with him. It would be cruel of me to come between a love like that,” she speaks up eventually. Despite her casual tone and the fact she has her back turned to you, you feel your face warm slightly.

“He cares about you. A lot. He was prepared to let you go if that’s what you wanted,” she goes on, thankfully oblivious to your mildly flustered state. “Can’t help but root for a guy who cares that much, y’know? Even if he’s a bit of an idiot.”

You make a vague noise of acknowledgement. It must have been quite a heart-to-heart she had with Jake. You have to wonder how many threats she might have made. Jake wouldn’t say anything about the conversation, but at least he managed to get her approval. (Possibly by gushing about you.)

Said approval means more to you than you care to ever say out loud.

Roxy joins you in the circle, taking a seat behind you, and starts redrawing the symbols. This time there’s an additional sensation to it. You have no idea how to describe it other than having a mouth full of cinders. It makes you grimace.

“It’s different,” you note aloud, ignoring the urge to scrunch up your nose at the unpleasant taste.

“Yep,” she concurs cheerfully. “This one will last a little longer and it will allow you to shift for an hour without it vanishing if you want to.”

You don’t know if you will have any chances to go swimming, but having the option available to you — even with a limited time period — is actually really nice and thoughtful of her. You quietly thank her and let her finish up without further distraction.

You and Jake end up lingering in their company, Callie giving you advice on what to expect when it comes to flying (it’s going to suck for you no matter what, you learn) and Roxy jumping on the chance to take Halley in when Jake waffles out loud about whether or not to bring Halley along for the short trip. It leads to a whole conversation about how to properly take care of a dog between them.

Some time after having lunch with them, you return to Jake’s place. With all the packing already done, you can technically take it easy. You decide to double-check everything despite Jake’s insistence that it’s fine and you can always just buy it again if you forget anything. It’s more that it gives you something to do as anticipation manifests itself in restless energy buzzing underneath your skin. You make sure there are no perishables left in the house too.

By evening you both go drop Halley off at Roxy’s place, bringing along everything she’ll need to take care of him. It’s also when you say goodbye to Roxy and Callie and you’re given some very firm hugs. It feels distinctly different from all the other times you’ve left and you’re actually almost reluctant to leave them behind. It’s not even a long trip at all — just two weeks, the week in which Jake supposedly has to reach his decision about the company and another that he’s reserved solely for showing you around — which makes the feeling all the stranger.

Your (lowkey) excitement wins out though.

What helps with the restlessness is taking a quick swim in the ocean under the guise of testing out Roxy’s adjusted spell and so does Jake’s hand down your pants once you’ve returned and crawled into bed with him after a shower. Your world narrows down to his hand wringing out pleasure with every pump while he grinds against your ass and lavishes your neck, shoulders, and back with kisses and bites. The intent and possessive way he’s handling you is what ends up tipping you over and the afterglow of your orgasm leaves you nice and pliant, sinking into sleep easily once Jake is finished cleaning you both up.

 

* * *

 

Callie is right: flying is absolute hell and there’s nothing you could have done to prepare or make it better. Being up high in the air just seems to be anathema to your very being. The only comforts you have are the knowledge that the first time is the worst and it will get easier after and the fact that Jake has his own goddamn _private_ plane. You’re especially grateful for the latter fact even if it boggles your mind a bit. You’re not sure how well you would have coped if you had to deal with being surrounded by a lot of people on top of feeling absolutely miserable.

As it stands, it’s just Jake and the crew. The flight attendant keeps supplying you with ginger ale (it doesn’t do much, but you appreciate the thought behind the gesture) and Jake lets you rest your head on his shoulder. His fingers carding through your hair every now and then is a slightly more soothing balm and the way he gently frets over you is rather sweet. Between his and the kind attendant’s efforts, you’re made as comfortable as you can be.

Too bad it’s just not comfortable enough.

Having woken bright and early, you try to catch more sleep in an attempt to escape the nausea and the dizziness. It doesn’t entirely work, but the fitful dozing you manage is better than staying fully conscious the whole way.

By the time you land, you’re utterly exhausted. You might as well have swam the entire way while feeling poorly as far your body is concerned. You follow Jake in something of a daze as he ushers you along with luggage in hand and you’re glad you don’t have to go far to come across the car that’s waiting for him. You slump over first chance you get, letting Jake pull your head in his lap, and instantly conk out.

You have absolutely no idea how much time has passed and where you are when he carefully shakes you awake. It’s only when you step out of the car and you’re left blinking blearily at the giant manor that greets your sight that Jake informs you this is his home. The English Manor.

You’re vaguely aware that some part of you is balking at this. The contrast between the humble home by the lighthouse and this rich monstrosity is so very stark, but you’re too out of it to pay it much mind. You’d much rather find the nearest soft, flat surface to lie down on.

It’s exactly what you do after Jake guides you inside. You ignore his talk of rooms upstairs and make a beeline for the first couch you come across to gracelessly flop down on. All you have in response to Jake’s protests and urging for you to follow him to a proper bed is a muffled grunt and half-hearted mumble that sounds something like a slurred ‘’m fine here.’

You kind of tune him out, not so much paying attention to his words and more the cadence of his voice. It’s nice. You’re somewhat wishing you could listen to the sound of waves too. It’s strange not to have it in the background anymore. If you asked, you’re certain Jake could play you some, but even that feels like too much effort. Instead you listen to him move around after you turn unresponsive to his coaxing and you don’t budge after he’s pulled the boots off your feet. You think you hear him tapping away on his phone.

Just as you’re about to drift off again, he returns to your side and the hand brushing along your cheek and through your hair pull you away from the edge of slumber.

“Hey, lovely,” he says, hushed but urgent enough that you get yourself to crack one eye open to look at him. It encourages him to continue. “As much as I loathe to leave you like this, I need to go fetch something. Don’t worry that pretty head of yours though, you won’t be alone and I won’t be gone for long.”

All you manage is another grunt in response and luckily he takes it as the acknowledgement you meant it as. You let your eye fall closed again when he covers you with a blanket and kisses your forehead.

Sleep is quick to claim you and keep you in its blissful hold until the sound of hasty footsteps rouses you at some point. How it sounds like the clacking of heels makes you think it might be a maid or whatever and you’re tempted to ignore it. It becomes less tempting when the footsteps approach and stop right in front of the couch you’re on.

What pulls you further into full awareness is the slender hand pressed to your forehead and the familiar voice reaching your ears.

“For Pete’s sake, I can’t believe he dragged you all the way here.”

Your eyes fly open and you’re greeted by the sight of Jane leaning over you, frowning worriedly.

“... Hey,” you croak with some measure of confusion and wince at the sound of your voice.

It makes Jane grimace too.

“Hold on,” she says and she whisks off, deftly stepping away and out of your sight.

You take advantage of the opportunity to laboriously push yourself in an upright position while dimly realising that this might be what Jake meant when he said you wouldn’t be alone. You figured he meant there would be housekeeping staff or some such around. Apparently he called his cousin over instead.

Jane reappears, carrying a glass of water that she holds out to you and you gratefully take with a mutter of gratitude.

As you down it, she’s staring at you, her expression something between cross (not with you, you don’t think) and concern. You consider her greeting words while you drink and, combined with the look on her face, it leads you to a conclusion.

You set the emptied glass aside and clear your throat before giving speaking a second try.

“He didn’t tell you I was coming along?”

“He sure didn’t until just now,” she confirms with a huff that’s quick to turn into a sigh as she shakes her head, exasperated.

“Sorry,” you offer at a lack of knowing what else to say.

“It’s not your fault,” she tells you with a stern edge to her voice that has you swallowing any further apologies or excuses you might want to make for your unannounced presence here. “He’s always been like this. Just so… whimsical.”

Should you be defending Jake here? Before you can figure that out, she’s already pressing on and changing the subject.

“Are you alright?”

Although she’s clearly unhappy with Jake’s decision, she seems genuinely concerned for you and it leaves you uncertain about this whole situation. You’d gotten along fine with Jane before, but it wouldn’t be surprising if she saw you as more of an interloper now. Especially given what she knows (or at least suspected) and her bad experiences with the more magical.

Yet you can’t find any hint of falseness in the worried set of her brow.

“Been better,” you answer honestly because there’s no point faking it, you’re aware you must look like shit right now.

She nods and bites her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second before she sits down primly on the couch next to you, pulling her handbag into her lap and rifling through it. She produces a small tupperware container that she hands to you.

From what you can see it contains oatmeal cookies, only there’s an oddly floral scent coming from the container that has you curious. When Jane just smiles encouragingly at you at your questioning glance, you pry it open and take a whiff.

The cookies definitely don’t smell like regular cookies should. You’re certain you can smell the distinct scent of lavender among other flowers and there’s a bitter hint hidden by the floral scents that you just barely catch. Could be valerian.

“You’re a kitchen witch,” you observe aloud as you lift your gaze to meet hers.

“Oh no, nothing of the sort! I merely dabble here and there, that’s all.” She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear in a bashful gesture as she talks, but you can tell she’s proud by the tone of her voice. “They should help with the jet lag. Or at least make sleeping easier. A nibble or a bite is enough for a nap, depending on how long you want to sleep. You eat the whole thing for a full night’s rest.”

“Thank you,” you say, more than a little baffled by the kind gesture.

Just the scent of the cookies has you feeling even more drowsy so you hastily put the lid back on and set the container on the coffee table before shifting slightly to face Jane more comfortably. You notice there’s a slight tenseness to the set of her shoulders now and she’s subtly wringing her hands in her lap.

“Know your enemy and all that, huh?” You venture carefully, unsure whether or not you should be letting on that you know of her family’s history.

Seeing as how your question makes her breathe out and let some of the tension go, you figure it’s alright.

“Exactly,” she grins before her expression sobers again. “He told you then?”

“Yeah. Granted, he didn’t tell me much. Just that your family had to deal with a sea witch.”

She nods and you watch her deliberate for a good second, folding her hands in her lap, before she appears to come to a decision.

“She was my stepmother and she used to be in charge of Crockercorp. In fact, gaining control over the company and using it for her own nefarious purposes was the only reason she ever married my father. Once she did, it… wasn’t good.” She falters only slightly, gaze drifting down to her hands where she catches herself and covers it with a sad chuckle. “It’s all terribly cliché, really.”

You make an understanding noise, letting her continue without interruption.

“Jake’s grandmother is the one who helped us regain control of the company and get her out of our lives. Jake was never involved much for his own protection and we were both quite young, but he knows the general gist of what happened.”

Before you can say anything in response to that, she suddenly looks up and straight at you. Her gaze sharp and resolute.

“So he should know better than to do what he’s done. I’m sorry that he did something so selfish,” she says and you don’t doubt that she’s sincere. “He doesn’t still have it, does he?”

“No, he gave it back before we came here,” you quickly reassure her.

“Good. That’s very good,” she says with a relieved smile. However, her tone implies that she’s not finished and you wait for the addendum.

“So, seeing as you’ve been returned what is yours but you’re here now, I’m sure you understand that I have to ask what your intentions are regarding Jake.”

An understandable question. The kind you’ve been expecting from her if you’re completely honest. Yet the answer somewhat eludes you. It’s not like you have set intentions, it’s just that Jake has come to represent something to you that you desperately want to keep hold of.

You might have been able to tell Roxy about your feelings for Jake, but you don’t know Jane nearly as well. You’re not even sure that she would consider “I love him” as an adequate reason to take the leap and go with Jake considering what he’s done. She might only get more suspicious about any possible ulterior motives. You’ll have to try and explain it better than that.

“I don’t care whether or not he decides to inherit Skaianet,” you start, figuring that’s a good thing to clear up from the get-go given Jane’s past. “The sea has been my only home for as long as I’ve existed. Money or any kind of material wealth doesn’t have any place there.”

Although her expression doesn’t change much, she nods and you take that as a good sign.

“Spending time with him has shown me what it’s like to have a home on land and I guess I’ve come to prefer it.”

“What about other selkies?” She asks, face still a careful mask.

“There are none as far as I know. I’ve never been able to find any others.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, her mask cracking as her eyes widen. “Oh goodness, I knew things were bad when it came to magical beings, but I had no idea they were that dire.”

You make an affirmative noise, not particularly wanting to get into the subject of your solitude when you already feel off-kilter. The room still keeps spinning every time you move your head too much.

“I see then. That puts a lot of this in perspective,” she goes on contemplatively.

“Does it?”

The sarcastic drawl in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed and it earns you a sharp little smile.

“Yes, quite.”

You have no clue whether or not that is enough to win her over, so you press on.

“I don’t mean Jake any harm and I’m not mad about the skin thing.”

“You should be,” she points out. Rightfully so.

“Probably,” you shrug in return. “But here I am regardless.”

“Indeed.”

She finally looks away from you, seemingly deep in thought, and you leave her to her pensive silence for a moment while you try not to pass out again.

“To be honest, I’ve never seen him so over the moon about someone before,” she starts, forcing you to open your eyes more as you realise how heavy they’d become in the interim. “I just don’t want to see him get hurt. Or you.”

She’s looking at you with sincerity written all over her face and it’s touching. The sentiment warms you just as the apparent fact that Jake is (possibly as) crazy about you as you are about him.

“I’m not a siren luring him to his eventual death nor do I want to gain control over his corporation for my nefarious purposes. Promise,” you swear in a mock-solemn tone of voice.

“I would certainly hope not,” she replies with a laugh.

You offer her a small smile before dropping the act.

“Honestly, I think we’ll be alright. Whatever he decides.”

She’s looking at you consideringly for a moment before finally nodding. You’ll count that as a victory. Just as she opens her mouth to say something in response, her phone chimes in her pocket and distracts her. She gives you an apologetic look as she fishes it out and you watch her frown at the screen.

“Oh shoot, I’ve got to go,” she says, promptly getting to her feet. “Important work thing. Jake should be back soon.”

“Alright,” you say, quietly relieved that you’ll get to return to languishing in a horizontal position. Staying vertical is far too much effort for your liking.

“You should have a bite and get some more rest,” she says with a meaningful look and a gesture at the cookies. “I’ll see you around, Dirk.”

“Yeah, will do. Thanks, Jane.”

You watch her leave and redirect your attention to the cookies. You deliberate for only a few seconds before deciding fuck it, you’ll try one. You doubt that she would try to poison or curse you. Not with the evidence so obviously left behind, anyhow. She’s smarter than that.

You take a careful bite out of a cookie and set the rest aside, marveling at the sweet and pleasantly floral taste as you chew. You lie down and comfortably rearrange the blanket over yourself, getting cosy as you wait for it to kick in.

Luckily you don’t have to wait long and you surrender yourself to sleep without resistance.

 

* * *

 

You’re somewhat woken by the sound of Jake returning, distantly aware of doors opening and closing and footsteps in the hallways. You’re far too warm and comfortable where you are to pay it much attention and so you let yourself hang in the hazy in between state of consciousness and sleep.

You’re barely cognizant when he enters the room some time later, close to dropping off back to proper sleep that you are.

“Hello, you,” a warm voice reaches your ears, every letter spoken steeped in fondness, as a hand strokes along your hair.

You mumble something that sounds approximately like a greeting and force your eyes open to be greeted by Jake’s smiling face level with yours where he’s crouched in front of you.

“I see you got try one of Janey’s famous sleeptime-cookies,” he says, his voice continuing to sound like honey. It makes it hard to keep your eyes open.

“They’re good,” you mutter in a half-whisper, trying to rouse yourself into full wakefulness.

“That they are,” he matches your hushed tone before leaning in, treating you to a brief soft press of lips against your own. “Think you can get up, dear chum? I’ve got something for you.”

You’re not feeling very inclined to budge. A much more appealing idea would be to pull Jake onto the couch to snuggle up to him and it’s a tempting one. Curiosity about the supposed gift is what wins out though. It gives you the extra motivation needed to force yourself upright again. Your brain is foggy with sleep, but you consider that an improvement over the persistent dizziness from before.

Jake helps you up with gentle hands and starts guiding you out of the room, picking up your satchel where you dropped it in a chair along the way to the couch. You’re too tired to ask why so you just keep shuffling along without question.

He takes you up the stairs and down a hallway to a bathroom. When you set foot inside, there’s a strong scent of salt hitting your nose and confusing your senses until Jake urges you forward to the lavish bathtub and you see that it’s filled.

“I made you a little seasalt bath. Rox said it ought to help you feel better.”

You stare at the water, probably rather stupidly, with your sleep-addled brain at a loss for words. It doesn’t help that you’re touched by all the effort Jake must has gone through to prepare this for you. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to kindness like this.

“Thank you,” you manage eventually, hiding your face under the pretense of kissing his cheek.

“No trouble at all. Here,” he hands you the satchel and backs away. “I’ll be around closeby if you need anything.”

You shoot him one last grateful little smile as he exits and waste no time getting undressed, eager for anything that might help you feel more steady again.

Taking your sealskin out of your satchel, you bring it with you and pull it around your shoulders as you step into the bathtub. Just as you sink down to your knees, you let yourself shift.

The change is immediate. You’re instantly more alert, the cold saline water feeling like a direct shot of caffeine being delivered to your system. It’s not the same as taking a proper dive into the ocean, but for how lousy you’d been feeling it might as well be. It’s wonderful.

The bathtub is not big enough to swim in, but it’s roomy enough that you can twist and turn with relative ease and Jake has filled it almost to the brim, giving you a tiny bit of space to dive. You move around in the water for a bit, feeling it shift all around you with every movement you make and enjoying it; letting it reinvigorate and steady whatever got knocked out of balance inside of you by the flight.

When you’ve had your fill of that, you simply opt to float in the water contentedly. Now that you’re feeling better and your head is clearer, you contemplate how to best show Jake your appreciation in return.

You’re so deep in thought that you don’t realise what you’re doing until you hear Jake’s voice calling out and you snap out of your reverie. You promptly still your flipper.

“Dirk?”

There’s amusement woven through his voice and it does nothing to ease how mortified you feel at getting caught doing the very fuckin’ seal thing of slapping your belly. You hear Jake approach and you duck underwater for what little good it does you.

You can’t really ignore him when he leans over the edge of the tub and looks down at you. You reluctantly resurface again when his warbled words coaxing you up reach your ears.

“Enjoying your bath, I take it?”

You hate that you love the shit-eating grin on his face.

You huff out a breath and lower your head so that just your eyes are peeking above the water. Jake remains completely unfazed.

“Golly, you’re just the cutest thing,” he continues blithely, completely ignoring the way you narrow your eyes at him. Conveying emotions like this is hard, but you’re pretty sure that he damn well knows that you don’t appreciate him cooing over you like this.

Still, you don’t shy away when he reaches out. You watch his cocky grin be replaced with a more awed expression as he carefully runs his fingers over your head.

You’ve never let anyone touch you quite like this before. The only person who’s ever even remotely touched you in this form was Roxy and you only allowed her to get a whisker from you when she needed it, nothing more.

Now you let Jake run his fingers over your fur, even drifting up to offer more for him to stroke with gentle, reverent hands. It’s… really nice.

It also makes you realise just how goddamn lucky you are. There’s so many ways this could have gone wrong. You’re acutely aware of the power Jake would have held over you if he’d kept your skin. But he didn’t. He gave it back, allows you to be yourself, and accepts you for who and what you are.

You haven’t turned out to be one of the horror stories you’ve heard about so far.

It feels too good to be true. Yet when Jake murmurs quiet words of endearment and seems to chase away the aching loneliness that’s been dogging you your whole life bit by bit with every soft brush of his fingers, you can’t help but want to believe. Just this once.

You want your story to be the cliché fairy tale with the good ending.

Jake is giving you the glimmer of hope that it can be.

Hopefully your two weeks here — getting to know this other side of Jake’s life you haven’t been privy to before — will provide the answer as to whether or not you can find your happily ever after with Jake English.

Only time will tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of update last week, health issues got in the way and then this week turned out to be an extremely stressful one, but here it finally is!! i had to split the contents of this chapter into two so there will be one more chapter after this one and then an epilogue.


	10. I am in tune

Jake eventually leaves your side to continue unpacking and you linger in the salt bath a little longer until the hour is almost up before shifting back and taking a nice shower to wash all the salt off. By the time you get out of the shower, you’re thoroughly refreshed and smelling fantastic. You slip on the silky robe that Jake has left for you. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to be for women, but you don’t give a single fuck. It feels expensive and amazing on your skin.

You leave your sealskin to dry in the bathroom and set out to find Jake. You do so in what you presume is his bedroom (or maybe one of), having dragged both of your luggage there, and you go straight for him, wrapping your arms around his waist and plastering yourself against his back, your chin coming to rest on his shoulder.

You feel him jolt as he startles and the laugh he lets out to cover it rumbles through your own frame pleasantly.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a smile in his voice.

“Much.”

You turn your face and kiss his neck, relishing the hitch in his breathing when you slide your hand under his shirt and spread your fingers wide across his stomach. It makes his effort to appear unaffected all the more amusing. His voice is steady when he talks, but you can feel him press back against you.

“I hope you don’t find it presumptuous that I moved all your stuff here.”

“No, it’s fine,” you murmur against his skin before you latch on in earnest, making him groan. You don’t tell him that you have a hard time imagining sleeping alone again while he’s around, you’re far too busy making your intent known. He’s plenty receptive if how quickly he drops his nonchalant pretense and reaches over to tangle his fingers in your hair are anything to go by.

He tugs on your hair after you’ve had your chance to leave a mark and turns his head to catch your lips and draw you in for a heated kiss. Just as you’re slipping your fingertips under his waistband, the mood gets somewhat ruined when his stomach growls loudly and then thoroughly ruined when that sends him into a giggling fit.

“How about some early dinner first?” He pleads after he gets himself under control.

It’s not as if you could say no to the endearing grin he shoots you and admittedly, you’re pretty hungry too. It’s only now that the subject has been brought up that you realise you haven’t had anything to eat aside from breakfast and a bite of Jane’s cookie. Quite possibly eating something might help with the stubborn bit of lightheadedness that remains.

So you don’t need any more convincing though it’s still with great reluctance that you let go of him and step back. It’s made a bit more worth it for how he turns around and regards you in all your silk-robed glory appreciatively.

“You should keep that on,” he tells you with a wicked grin.

You do.

It’s a decision easily made when you learn that apparently the manor is running on minimal staff, just what’s needed to keep the house and the grounds neat and tidy. By this time you and Jake have the place to yourselves.

It’s also why you end up ordering in while Jake takes a quick shower and you get to experience the luxury of lounging around in nothing but a silk robe, eating pizza and drinking expensive wine. Jake puts a movie on while you both enjoy dinner and it quickly becomes apparent that all the traveling has taken its toll on him as well for all his pretenses otherwise. His eyes keep drooping and he keeps yawning. It means you have to put your amorous intentions on hold which is not made any easier by Jake seeing as he keeps running his hands up your robe and along the inside of your thighs. It’s probably your own fault for keeping your legs resting in his lap.

When he actually nods off for a solid minute, you decide to call it quits and to just go to bed even though you yourself are feeling wide awake and somewhat energised by now. You have Jane’s cookies to help with that.

You eat one and usher him upstairs to go through the usual bedtime routine before you both fall into bed. It’s a lot more spacious than the one in the lighthouse home, but you still end up pressed against him, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lull you to sleep.

In the morning, he wakes you up by sucking hickeys on your inner thighs. The nice and slow morning sex that ensues leaves you uninclined to leave the bed, basking like a lazy cat in the drowsy feel-good aftermath. It’s only when he tells you that he has to leave for a meeting in the afternoon that you manage to gather the will to get out of bed so you can go grab what is basically brunch by now.

He treats you to some amazing food and when you get back, he shows you around the house some before he reluctantly has to leave. You continue exploring on your own after he’s gone, more than a little intrigued to learn whatever you can from getting to know the space he grew up in.

Although the home is absurdly big, the interior design of it is a blend of rustic and farmhouse, giving it a more cosy feeling. It’s reminiscent of the lighthouse home and it becomes obvious what Jake’s grandmother’s taste was like. When you go out to explore the grounds, you quickly come across a greenhouse with an impressive collection of all sorts of plants.

If you had any clue how to best preserve them, you’d be tempted to pluck some herbs you find to bring them back for Roxy. Sadly you don’t know shit about it and there’s an elderly man you stumble across who turns out to be the gardener whose presence dissuades from any attempt at (what’s technically) green-thumbed thievery.

You end up spending quite some time in his company as the man seems eager to tell you the house and the family’s history. It’s worth it alone for the stories he tells you of Jake as a young boy; a tiny troublemaking adventurer. He treats you to some tea made from herbs and flowers from the garden itself and after, you thank him sincerely before leaving him to his work and continuing on your way.

The grounds are quite vast and you can picture clearly in your mind’s eye Halley running around. A white streak dashing across the green grass and vanishing among the trees of the nearby forest. It’s a thought that makes you smile. As tempted as you are to have a walk in the woods, it’s getting late and so you return to the house to wait for Jake. You don’t exactly have to wait much at all, he arrives just as you get inside and he’s brought Chinese with him for dinner.

As you get the plates and settle in the roomy kitchen, you try asking him how things went and you’re met with cagey responses. Any attempt to figure out what his decision regarding the company might be is unsuccessful.

It pretty much remains that way the rest of the week.

He’s away often for talks and getting affairs in order. You have no idea whether or not he’s made his decision or if he’s still waffling. He won’t discuss it with you and, to her great frustration, not with Jane either. She keeps you company whenever she can, usually meeting you for lunch or some high tea if she has a little more time on her hands. And although she keeps trying to get his answer out of you or get you to try and influence his decision, she ends up dropping it when she realises the futility of it.

Whenever Jake is around, he just tries to make the most out of your company and do what’s fun. Business is apparently strictly off the table outside the workplace. Even though you’re very much curious about his decision, you don’t push it. You figure it’s better for him to decide on his own without anyone else potentially influencing his decision. He probably knows that too and is stonewalling Jane for that very reason.

So you go along with his distractions and you indulge him when he tells you to make a list of things you want to do the next week which he promises will be devoted to you and he’ll be all yours. Although you’re already looking forward to it, his eager excitement about it is infectious and manages to make you a little impatient.

What’s rather vexing is that, when the week is finally up and you know he’s had to make his decision, he still refuses to tell you.

“I’ll tell you when we get back and then you can tell me your decision,” he says with a secretive smile.

“About what?” You _don’t_ pout, but your voice has a sullen hint to it that you can’t quite mask.

“Whether or not you’ll stay with me.”

Right. You have an important decision to make as well.

You kind of forget about that, that you’re here giving him a chance, and you just enjoy your time in the week that follows. Jake takes you to see sights and famous landmarks, on dates to amusement parks and museums and theatres. You get a good taste of actual city life and you love getting to experience it. You’re made to feel more human and so long as you’re by Jake’s side, you feel like you belong no matter where you go.

It’s hardly needed, but he tries his best to woo you too.

In doing so, he’s not afraid to flaunt his money. He’s cajoled you into a shopping spree before, gleefully brushing off your mostly joking accusations of him trying to be your sugar daddy. (“If you want me to be. C’mon, just let me spoil you a little!”) It ended with you having a new pair of boots and little indulgent things like bath bombs and chocolates along with some souvenirs for Roxy and Callie.

You don’t think he’s trying to buy your affections. You both know that wouldn’t work on you when most of the time you’re either indifferent to or uncomfortable with being given stuff. But he seems to enjoy it and so you indulge him occasionally. You’re quick to discover that huge crowded shopping malls and packed, bustling streets aren’t really your thing. It’s nice to have the chance to find that out all the same and you still manage to enjoy yourself plenty.

Even more memorable are the quieter moments you share, like taking baths together and early morning walks to watch the sun rise at some park.

What you end up loving the most is the trek into the woods on his property to an idyllic lake where he gets you to change and swim to your heart’s content, deciding to join you despite how cold the water is. His attempts to keep up with you in the water are as amusing as they are futile and you have fun swimming circles around him and disappearing underwater only to reappear close by and dart out of reach again or tugging on his ankles. His indignant yelps and sputtering laughs only spur you on.

When you eventually let him catch you, you decide to show him just how fast you can be and while he clings to you, you swim to the other side of the lake and back again with his elated laughter ringing in your ears. Afterward you bask in the afternoon sun, keeping him warm by snuggling up to him and letting him hold you until the hour is nearly up and you have to shift back.

After a lengthy make-out session and admiring how the light filtering through the trees makes interesting patterns on Jake’s tan skin, you both get dressed and grab the picnic basket that Jake brought along. You eat lunch there in the forest, surrounded by nature with only the sounds of the wind rustling the leaves, songbirds, and each other’s voices filling up the tranquil silence.

For all that you’d been craving to know city life and what it would be like to be truly human — both things that Jake has helped you get a good taste of — it’s there that you feel most at peace and you realise that the things you’ve been craving might not have been what you truly desired all along. In the end all you’d wanted was to be accepted as you are and to be less alone.

You’ve found that in Jake.

It’s on that sunny afternoon in the forest that you already know in your heart of hearts what your decision is going to be.

Still, you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop because you feel like something has got to give, that there will be something to dissuade you and for you to become another cautionary tale.

It doesn’t.

Jake gives you the best week of your life (although really, the past few weeks have essentially been the best ones in your life already) and you cherish every second of it. If nothing else, you think these memories could sustain you for the rest of your life if they had to. You hope they won’t have to.

You figured you would be disappointed or sad once the week is over. Instead the contentment lingers even as you prepare for the journey back. You haven’t seen much of Jane during the week which meant that you couldn’t deduce or get the answer as to what Jake’s decision might be through her, but she’s there to say goodbye on the day you leave.

Somewhat annoyingly, her interactions with Jake don’t betray anything. The only thing that might constitute as the barest of hints is when she whispers something in his ear and it leaves him smiling.

For you she has a warm hug and a tin of her homemade cookies to take with you. That there are no signs of resentment on her part comes as a relief although you’re not entirely certain whether that’s because Jake has made a decision that she deemed favorable or because you’ve more or less become friends with her. Either way, the only pang of disappointment you feel is having to say goodbye to her.

“Take care, Dirk,” she tells you genially. “I do hope to see you again.”

Those simple words ease that pang and fill you with warmth.

“So do I,” you reply earnestly.

 

* * *

 

The flight back is a little easier than the flight to, possibly because you’re better prepared for it by virtue of knowing what’s to come. That’s not to say that it doesn’t still leave you feeling all out of sorts, but you’re handling it better than the first time around. Much to both your and Jake’s relief.

What is even more of a relief is the proximity to the sea once you’ve made it back to the lighthouse. Despite Roxy’s spell remaining in perfect working condition, you can feel the Call humming in your veins — suppressed though it is — and this time you don’t bother resisting it. The moment you’ve dumped your stuff in the house, you go out for a quick dip in spite of the rain. When you return, Jake’s waiting for you with a fresh pot of tea and a fond smile that never seems to fail to make your heart feel like it’s being gently squeezed.

It’s wordlessly decided that you take the time to recuperate and get settled again before you discuss the important matters. Part of that involves going over to Roxy’s the next day to pick up Halley and let her grill you about all the things you’ve done in America. You’re not sure who to say is most excited to see the both of you again: her or Halley. They both make game attempts to bowl you over and smother you with affection. You’re thankful for Jake and Callie coming to your rescue before you can be suffocated by either of them.

You tell them about your adventures abroad and give them the souvenirs you bought. For Roxy a cute little USB-drive in the shape of a cat’s head with eyes that light up neon pink when plugged in that you came across and for Callie a nice assortment of teas you got from a Chinatown. They’re small gifts, but you’re pleased to find that they’re well-received.

You stay for dinner with them and head back when the sun begins to set. Roxy doesn’t let you go until after she’s pulled you aside, holding and squeezing your hands meaningfully while imploring you to follow your heart and do what makes you happy instead of going with what you think you should do or what you think you deserve. She knows you too well.

Her words are echoing in your head on the walk back and not even Halley’s joyful dancing around the two of you distracts from the tense anticipation that sinks itself in the atmosphere between you. It’s an anticipation that lingers throughout the evening and well into the night as neither of you dare to broach the subject just yet.

It’s not until the next morning, when you’re seated in the kitchen that’s become so familiar and dear to you, that you finally decide to ignore the anxious flutters in your gut and get into it over breakfast.

“So what did you decide to do about Skaianet?” You ask as nonchalantly as possible, throwing a casual glance at him over your piece of toast for good measure. Neither of you are fooled by it.

Jake pauses and then lowers his spoon, dropping it back into his bowl of cereal. You watch him take a deep breath before he lifts his gaze to meet yours.

“I won’t be the head of the company,” he says solemnly and you scan his face for regret or sorrow, finding not a trace of either. Rather, one corner of his mouth quirks up in a slight grin.

“I think we both know I wouldn’t be well-suited for such corporate malarkey. But that’s not to say I’m simply giving it all up either. Given all the money that grandma left me, I know I _could_ , but leaving everything she worked so hard to built to others wouldn’t feel right and proper.”

He straightens in his seat and you tilt your head curiously in silent query as his expression turns to one of resolute certainty.

“So I’ll be working as a liaison for the company. That way I can keep traveling and stay involved with my grandmother’s work. Skaianet has a lot of connections all over the world, you see.”

That actually suits him, you think. Admittedly you couldn’t ever imagine him being the head honcho of a corporation as huge as Skaianet, but then a few weeks ago you wouldn’t have imagined him living in a giant manor despite knowing him to be wealthy either.

“What did Jane say?” You can’t help asking.

“She… ah, was a tad disappointed, to be sure. But I think she was mostly relieved I wasn’t ditching it altogether and this way, I can sort of help Crockercorp too.”

“I think it’s a good, smart choice,” you tell him honestly and you enjoy the way it makes him beam at you.

“As did I! Janey says I’m compromising and perhaps that’s true, but I truly think this is better. I don’t want to be responsible for something I ought not to be. Especially if it could lead to ruining grandma’s hard work.”

You wish you could tell him his grandmother would be proud of him. You’re sure it would be true given the impression she’s left behind and from everything you’ve heard about her, but it’s not like you actually knew her and could thus speak for her. Instead you opt to reach over and take his hand, squeezing it encouragingly.

“I know you’ll do great.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens briefly — there’s such an overwhelming warmth in his gaze that you feel as if you could drown in its green — before he breaks eye contact and looks away. There’s a telltale sign of his anxiety as he bites his bottom lip.

“They’ve granted me some leeway, but I’ll have to start working soon. Prove I’m up for it and all that nonsense,” he says, eyes darting from the cereal bowl to your joined hands and then up to you through his eyelashes in a manner that can be described as downright shy. “I’m hoping you’ll be up for joining me.”

_‘Yes. Hell fuckin’ yes.’_

That’s the immediate response that springs to your mind. However, what comes out of your mouth is most definitely not that.

“Will you give me some time to think about it?”

He blinks, perhaps a little taken aback by your hesitance, though otherwise not showing any hurt at your awkwardly blurted out question.

“Of course. Naturally. Take your time,” he tells you reassuringly, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand in a soothing gesture to match. You love him all the fiercer for this bit of patience he grants you when the uncertainty can’t be easy on him.

You join him when he goes to walk Halley after breakfast and it turns into a long walk along the beach. Neither of you are particularly bothered by the dreary weather as you walk hand-in-hand and breathe in the salty ocean air. You marvel at how normal it feels now, like you’ve been doing this for years. The weight and warmth of his hand clasping yours has become so familiar to you, it’s almost hard to remember a time when you didn’t have it. When the simple act of holding someone’s hand for the simple joy of it was out of your reach beyond one-night bedroom affairs.

Your mind skirts around the thought of ever possibly losing it again.

When the walk is over, you leave Jake’s side to go climb the lighthouse on your own where you can be alone with your thoughts while staring out at sea. It’s there you take the time to really think things over.

The answer is clear to you. There’s little doubt left in your heart and mind about what to do. You just want to make it known in some grand gesture that would be befitting of the occasion. You’re both drastically altering the course of your lives here and you want to declare your love in a way that’s... right. Whatever that might be.

Ultimately there’s only one thing you can think of and you abandon your self-imposed post at the top of the lighthouse with butterflies in your stomach to go put it into motion.

You hear Jake rummaging around in the kitchen and catch a glimpse of him as you pass by. Ignoring the urge to lean against the doorway to watch whatever he’s doing, you go straight upstairs to retrieve what you need from Jake’s room.

Grabbing it, you take a small moment to steel yourself on top of the stairs before descending again.

Jake hears you as you step into the kitchen and you note he seems to be attempting to bake something as he turns around to face you, your eyes momentarily catching on the piece of paper in Jane’s neat handwriting on the countertop.

He freezes for a split-second when he sees you standing there with your sealskin clutched in your hands — or maybe it’s the slight deer in headlights look you must be wearing on your face that gives him pause — before he casually wipes his hands off on his apron.

“What is it, lovely?”

Already this isn’t at all the romantic scene you might have been envisioning. There are no rays of sunshine breaking through the clouds to illuminate the room through the windows. It remains a cloudy mess outside, light drizzle hitting the window and creating a soft hum of noise in the background. Jake looks a little silly in the apron he’s donning as well, now adorned with dusty flour imprints of his hands.

You decide it doesn’t matter.

There’s a sudden ‘now or never’ sense of urgency spurring you on. You can’t let you second guess yourself at the last second.

Without a word you walk up to him and press your sealskin into his hands. Then you take a step back again.

You watch him glance down at the skin in confusion and back to you. As realisation is slowly starting to dawn in his eyes, you struggle mentally with yourself to get out the words you need to say in the right order. You staunchly ignore how tight your throat feels, how a steadily rising panic makes you want to snatch your sealskin back and make a run for it before you embarrass yourself.

“I love you,” you finally manage to say, although not without your voice hitching shamefully. So much for staying cool and composed or being suave. You press on regardless of your romantic soul withering a little at your own gracelessness. “I want to stay with you. Go wherever you go. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Jake’s staring, wide-eyed, at you and then the sealskin again, the gravity of the gesture seemingly sinking in; the symbolic meaning in handing him the thing that represents your freedom not lost on him.

There’s an excruciating pause in which you kind of want the ground to swallow you until it’s broken by Jake’s thick-sounding voice.

“Oh, Dirk...”

You find relief in not being the only one not managing to keep his composure though that’s short-lived when Jake is looking back at you with teary eyes. Before you can finish the thought of ‘ _oh no, tears_ ’, he practically throws himself at you.

“Of course I will, you silly thing. I love you too.”

The words are spoken directly into your ear in a warm, wavering voice that sends a half-flustered, half-pleased flush of heat down your spine. Just as you’re about to return his embrace, he leans back to wrap your sealskin around your shoulders and rest his forehead against yours.

The symbolic meaning of that isn’t lost on you either and you think your heart is going to burst.

“Let’s have ourselves a grand adventure,” he says, grinning.

“Yeah. Let’s.”

It’s an easy agreement to make.

You might not belong to any one place, but home doesn’t have to be some arbitrary point on a map. It’s a sense of belonging that doesn’t tie itself to a mere location. You’ve found that home can be a person, too.

And you know you’ve found your home.

Wherever he might take you, it’s there in Jake English.

You’re finally home and you’re determined not to ever let it go again.


	11. EPILOGUE: Love is…

It doesn’t feel like too long ago that you wouldn’t have been able to imagine being where you are: sitting on the shore and surrounded by people you love and who love you. It’s been a few years since you would have been sitting by your lonesome, staring out at sea and feeling misplaced in the world. It’s not something you’ll ever forget. Most of your existence has been steeped in solitude and that has left its mark on you, the aching loneliness forever so easy to recall.

Now you only have to turn your head or lean into the weight next to you to see and feel that you’re not alone. 

In some aspects your life has remained the same. 

The sensation of the sand shifting under your hand when you move it is the same as is the salty tang in the air. The sea is still important to you. You still travel a lot, your lifestyle remaining a somewhat nomadic one. 

But there are some stark, wonderful differences. 

Roxy’s spell has become a permanent fixture on your back. Now the tattoo Jake mistook it for the first time he laid eyes on it. It limits your freedom in the water — puts a time constraint on how long you can remain shifted — in exchange for more freedom on land. So far it has been more than worth it.

Jake has taken you all over the world. You’ve seen sights you never dreamed you would, walked through the sands of the Sahara, climbed mountains, and seen the bright lights of vast cities at night. Between Roxy’s handiwork and both Jake’s money and job, you’re no longer confined to only exploring shores and coasts. You can go wherever you want to now.

The sea still calls for you, though it’s more a gentle song that you need not heed if you don’t wish to. 

Although its vastness represents your former isolation and you could easily avoid the sea and the lonely memories it brings with it altogether, you haven’t turned your back on it. Playing at being a human is made easier than ever, but you’re not human and you never will be. And you’ve learned to be okay with that. You still return to the sea often.

Like today where you’re gathered with your closest friends for a very special occasion. 

Neither you nor Jake cared much for marriage in the traditional sense, but when Roxy brought up a simple handfasting ceremony to celebrate the anniversary of your meeting, you both decided to go for it. Mostly so you would have an excuse to get everyone together in one place. Trying to pull Jane away from her work can be nigh impossible sometimes even though she’s become a steadfast friend to you, Roxy and Callie.

You unanimously decided to return to Scotland, back to the lighthouse and the beach you met on. It only seemed fitting. It’s not supposed to be anything grand. Just a simple ceremony that serves as an excuse for good company and good food; a moment to put everyone’s busy lives on hold to be together for a while. It’s really more about the gathering than the ceremony itself.

However, as the sun begins to set and you glance around at the preparations set out, you start feeling an anxious giddiness coming over you that you find reflected in beloved green eyes when you turn your head and meet Jake’s gaze. He smiles and you instinctively smile back, his eyes glinting with playful mischief and almost glowing with the light of the bonfire. Even after all this time, he never fails to be captivating to you. He’s told you many times before that the same is true for him regarding you.

“C’mon, c’mon, time to get changed!”

Your wordless, private moment is broken by Roxy coming over and tugging on your arm to urge you up. You sigh theatrically, causing Jake to chuckle, and obligingly get to your feet. You’d wanted to do this with as little pomp and fanfare as possible, but your friends (Roxy in particular) had insisted you both at least be dressed up for the occasion. You’d relented since you owe her more than you feel like you could ever repay and so you’ve left your and Jake’s outfits in their hands.

You’re going to find out in a minute whether or not you’ll regret that decision.

You’ve set the whole thing up (really, just a table with food, logs and blankets to sit on and a bonfire) close to Roxy’s house and she ushers you all there. Once inside you and Jake are split off, Jane pulling him away to another room and Halley ambling after them while Roxy and Callie tug you into the opposite direction.

You end up in Roxy’s spellroom, faced with a mannequin adorned in an outfit that has your eyes widening in surprise.

“Seriously?” You blurt out.

“We had a lot of fun making it and we miiight have gotten carried away a teensy tiny bit,” Roxy chimes innocently. 

“You think?” 

A ‘tiny bit’ is a grave understatement. You approach the mannequin and touch the fabric carefully. What has apparently been made specifically for you is a splendid outfit of layered robes in white and silvery gray. The way the robes have been layered creates an effect that’s reminiscent of foamy waves. That alone is quite a sight, but they’ve gone all out on the accessories too. 

There’s a darker silver sash tying it all together with an actual intricate patterns of waves on it and a big silver pendant in the shape of the moon with a very familiar symbol on it: the alchemical symbol for water, the very same that decorates your back. And then there’s an actual goddamn crown made of seashells and pearls. 

“Do you like it?” Callie asks tentatively, the anxious edge to her voice not lost to you.

“I...” You stop and start again, not often reduced to this kind of speechlessness. “Yeah. It’s gorgeous. Honestly, you didn’t have to—”

“No, but we wanted to,” Roxy interjects before you can finish your sentence proper, effectively shutting you up.

You stare at their creation for a good few seconds longer, thoroughly awed and humbled, before you clear your throat and get a grip.

“Alright, let’s do this. Turn me into goddamn Poseidon himself, I guess.”

You let the girls help you put the whole ensemble on and paint your face with silver markings and your nails a matching colour. When you’re almost done, Roxy takes her leave to go check up on Jake and Jane and then go prepare a circle on the beach while Callie finishes up.

When she’s done with you, you really do feel like you could be Poseidon or some kind of sea deity with how you’re dressed. As a last touch, Callie drapes your sealskin over your shoulders and it completes the look in such a way you have no doubt that they meant to incorporate it from the start when they thought up the outfit. The most important defining part of you is given a crucial role to finish the look.

You truly have the best friends anyone could ever ask for.

Given how you look, you have to wonder what they put Jake in. It’s a thought that leaves you burning with curiosity. Sadly you don’t get the find out the moment you step outside the room because Callie puts a blindfold on you before you’re allowed to do so. She takes your hand and gently guides you back outside, her quiet gushing about how romantic this all is feeding the butterflies in your stomach. To distract yourself, you ask her if she’ll race you in the water sometime.

You’re pretty damn pleased when she agrees after the random question surprises a laugh out of her.

You carefully shuffle along, your steps growing a tad more confident when your bare feet hit the sand. Just as you get a sense of your location on the beach from the crackling of the bonfire, Callie draws you to a halt.

“Here we are then, love,” she says, excitement palpable in her every word.

You can feel her reach up and undo the blindfold’s knot, tugging it loose and off your face. You immediately lift your eyes, your gaze traveling along the circle made of flower petals, herbs, and stones on the ground in front of you to catch on—

_Jake._

You both simultaneously draw in a breath as you catch sight of each other standing opposite one another outside the circle.

Where you’re all silver and white, he’s dressed in all black with gold accents. Everything is like a mirrored opposite of your outfit; his golden sash, the gold paint on his face and nails, and the large golden sun pendant with the alchemical symbol for earth on it. His crown is made of twigs and ivy.

He looks absolutely stunning.

“Golly,” he exclaims in an awed hush.

“Golly indeed,” you agree, feeling utterly and hopelessly smitten all over again.

You can’t take your eyes off of him so it’s a good thing you notice Roxy motioning for you to step into the circle from your peripheral. You step forward and you only need to lift your hand a little bit and Jake’s there, clasping it and stepping close, seemingly equally unable to look away.

“Our wonderful gal pals sure have outdone themselves,” he says, voice still hushed yet with an undercurrent of glee to it.

“You look like you belong in Mirkwood,” you tell him in a matching tone, knowing exactly the reaction you’re going to get. You’re not disappointed in the least. His whole face lights up brightly as if his glee can no longer be contained.

“Does that make you from Rivendell?”

Before you can get into the various fashions of elves as portrayed in certain movies, Jane joins you both in the circle, holding a rope in her hands and looking amused as she raises an eyebrow at the two of you pointedly. You both share a playful grin with each other — his a brilliant flash of white, yours the subdued uptick of the corner of your mouth — before Jake nods at her to go ahead.

With utmost care she winds the emerald silk rope around your joined hands, smiling warmly at you both when she’s done, and then she steps away again to allow Roxy to take her place. Roxy repeats the process with a piece of orange silk rope, making it meet the green in the middle before braiding and tying it together in an elaborate-looking knot. 

While she works, it suddenly hits you all at once what you’re doing. What was supposed to be a simple ceremony now feels very grand in the clothes that you’re both wearing. Given that you’d been counting on this being a very casual thing, you hadn’t given the vows a whole lot of thought.

Dressed to the nines and with Roxy finishing up literally tying the knot, you feel like you should have had some speech prepared or even just have some fitting words that match the grandeur of the scene. 

You don’t.

Knowing that brings a swell of anxiety in the form of a sudden sense of inadequacy overtaking you as you watch her work. It’s one that’s quickly quelled when Jake catches your gaze and holds it, taking your other hand and squeezing both gently. 

Again you’re captivated and only vaguely aware of Roxy backing out of the circle from the corner of your eyes when she’s done. There’s just something about his eyelids having been painted gold that makes the green of his eyes pop which in turn is made all the more mesmerising by the reflection of the bonfire’s glow. 

You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to.

“You will never know a day I don’t love you,” he says simply, the vow spoken like he’s stating a basic fact. 

And that’s it. No further fluff or fanfare. Just that confident statement and the warmth in his smile and eyes rendering your previous fretting completely moot.

You can match that, no problem.

“I’m yours,” you say, just going with the first true words that occur to you and not allowing yourself to agonise over them. “To the ends of the earth and back, I’m yours.”

His expression softens and, as if he can’t help himself, he leans in to kiss you. You ignore Roxy’s exuberant hollering and kiss him back, smiling against his lips.

When you part, Roxy is there by the circle with a decorated broom in hand. The ivy and orange flowers woven into it make it match the ropes perfectly. 

“Really?” You snort as you watch her lay it down in the circle.

“C’mon, it’s tradition! Just hop on over it,” she urges.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t resist Jake’s tug on your hand. So, even though it feels rather silly to you, you move as one with him and jump over the broom, stepping out of the circle and rejoining your friends.

With the ceremony over, it’s time to party. Which is really just enjoying the drinks that Roxy brought and the amazing food Jane prepared for the occasion.

Or at least until Roxy gets you all to join in on dancing around the bonfire. Jane takes a little bit more coaxing, but you all eventually end up in a circle, spinning around the flames hand-in-hand while Roxy sings blessings and odes to old gods. Even Halley joins in, running circles around the circle of people and weaving between you all. 

Time seems to pass in a hazy blur of fun, your friends’ laughter, and the warm hand tied to yours. You’re not even sure when the beautiful bleed of colours of the sunset turned to darkness with only the stars, moon and the fire to act as sources of light. You kind of want this night to last forever. If you could suspend a moment in time, this would be it.

But all things come to an end.

It’s sometime after midnight when you’re all just sitting around the dying fire that sleepiness is starting to make itself known on some faces. That’s when you all collectively decide to call it a night. You douse the fire and help clean up and carry the stuff back to Roxy’s house. Once that’s done you bid your friends good night and start the walk to the lighthouse with Jake and Halley, fancy broom and ropes (that you somewhat regrettably had to take off at some point) in hand. 

When you get back, you of course decide to do the cliché thing of consummating your ‘marriage’.

Peeling the layers of robes off each other is already an interesting endeavour, but Jake decides to spice things up even further by using the ropes to tie your hands behind your back and then getting you to ride him. You let him dictate the pace with his hands on your hips guiding you and keeping you steady. The slow, intimate bout of love-making that ensues is like a cherry on top of the already wonderful sundae that is your night.

Afterward you let yourselves become a lazy sprawl of tangled limbs, not even bothering to get up and remove the paint from your faces. You let contentment wash over you as you lie cuddled up to you.

It’s that contentment that’s been escaping you a bit lately. 

Truth be told, you’ve both been getting restless and in need of a change. (Although admittedly, you more so than him.) There’s been tentative talks about settling down. As fun as traveling and seeing so much of the world has been, you’ve been feeling the urge to have something purposeful to do. Seeing your friends and Jake work hard at their jobs has left you wanting to contribute in some meaningful way too.

After giving it a fair amount of thought and then discussing it a lot with Jake, you’ve decided you want to help Roxy help others. Jake’s put forth the suggestion of using the English Manor for that, to turn it into a refuge for those like you and Callie; a home for those in need of one if only for a little while.

That’s what today was about as well. Not just the celebration of an anniversary, but the first step towards a new beginning. Later in the morning you’ll be proposing the idea to Roxy and Callie. You highly doubt they’ll refuse. The manor and Jake’s wealth would give them a near-endless amount of resources to help aid their cause.

Not to mention you’ll all get to see a lot more of each other and that’s always a plus.

But even on the off chance that they do, you’re still determined to make it happen even if it’s only you and Jake. If you can provide even a fraction of what Jake has given you to someone else like you out there then it’s worth whatever the trouble you have to go through to make it happen.

You’re fortunate enough to have a husband who thinks the same.

You reflect on that as you mentally follow the path that Jake’s fingers are idly tracing up and down your arm, lingering on the slight marks left by the ropes.

“I dare say we’re ready for our next adventure, don’t you?” He pipes up, breaking the comfortable silence that’s fallen over you. 

You shift so you can tilt your head up and meet his gaze, letting the corner of your mouth quirk up.

“Yeah. Let’s make it happen.”

You’re not sure if you could call what you have a stereotypical happily ever after like in the fairy tales. Life is not that clean cut. You’ve had your ups and downs and both you and Jake have your own sets of issues that you’ve had to learn to navigate the hard way over the years. Adjusting from a life of solitude had taken time. No doubt there will be more hardships down the road especially with the venture that you’re about to undertake.

Life is no fairy tale even if you might be something considered straight out of one. 

No, you’ve learned to look at it more Jake’s way which is seeing life as a series of adventures.

And you’re very eager to see where the next one will take you.

At the very least, no matter what comes of your ambitious plans, you’ll always have your home. 

After all, he promised as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _The cure for anything is salt water — sweat, tears, or the sea.  
>  — Isak Dinesen._
> 
> That's all, folks. Thank you all so much for reading, sharing, leaving kudos and comments! The chapter titles came from [The Song of the Sea](https://youtu.be/81sigNx8prU) which, if you haven't already seen and you love selkies, I highly recommend watching. It's got gorgeous animation.
> 
> If you want to keep up with my future projects, you can find me on [tumblr](http://ghylle.tumblr.com/) where I post updates and answer asks until that hellsite decides to boot me and on [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Ghylle) where you can also find updates + the occasional more personal journal-like entry. I'll be putting up a list of all the ideas I've been entertaining as future projects sometime next week so keep en eye out for that if you wanna know what's potentially next. ( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡


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